Running Out of Time
by shakeitsalome
Summary: With only ten days to live, she must trust three strangers to save her life. Can these men find the answers before time runs out? Featuring: Sheamus, Wade Barrett, Drew McIntyre, others. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The sounds of her heels echoing against the pavement and her harsh breathing were the only thing she heard. She didn't dare to glance back to see if he had gotten closer. All that mattered at the moment was getting away. _Where?_ she thought as the panic rose again. The street was deserted but for the occasional passing car. It didn't help that she was in a strange city. Having run so far already she was in a portion of Paris that she hadn't seen on her few tourist excursions. The buildings were all dark, closed up, and she couldn't tell as she raced by whether they were shops closed for the night or closed permanently. _God, where can I go?_

The balls of her feet ached with each rapid step she took. Of course she would be running – for her life, it seemed – on one of the rare occasions she wore high heels. _Expensive _high heels at that. More than once she thought of taking them off and running barefoot. Her main reason for not doing so was the man who had followed her from the museum. Also, a good bulk of her savings had been parted with to attain the turquoise Louboutins and the thought of throwing them away seemed absurd even in her current frame of mind.

A dark sedan screeched to a stop at the corner and her heart plummeted with dread. Another one? She stopped, clutching a light pole to hold herself up as her knees weakened. She gasped for breath and could only stare as the passenger door opened. The tall man that exited the vehicle frightened her with his dark expression and she began to shake her head. _No. Please, no._

"Annette? Get in," he ordered, his English accent surprisingly calm. His eyes were on something behind her and she gasped as a gun appeared in his hand. "Fuck," he muttered. Long legs carried him in her direction and he grasped her bare arm. "I said get in the car—"

"No, please, don't—" she cut off with a cry as she was jerked forward. Her hand slid off the light pole just as something ricocheted off the light pole. The object whizzed past her cheek to lodge in the side of the building on the corner. A bullet. He'd shot at her.

She stumbled as he brought her closer to the car. "Get in the fucking car unless you want to die right here," he instructed.

She nodded, numb with fright as he stepped between her and _him_. He maintained a firm grip on her arm, backing her into the vehicle. The sudden gunshot startled her but she had no opportunity to cry out. Her wrist was caught in another large hand to guide her as she struggled to climb into the car. One heel caught in the tulle skirt and she was vaguely aware of the ripping. More shots were fired. Squashed between the two immense men she clasped her trembling hands in her lap, glancing down at the hand that still clutched her wrist.

"Go," the Englishman commanded. The acrid smell of gun smoke filled her nostrils as the hand holding the gun braced against the dash.

"Did yeh get 'im?"

"No. Fuck."

Tires squealed against the pavement, the car lurching forward before the Englishman closed the door completely. The sound of glass shattering brought a scream from her throat, and she felt a hand on the back of her head, forcing her to lean forward as the remains of the rear window exploded across them.

"That fucker almost got us."

"Want me to drive back 'round so yeh can take 'im out?"

"No. It's too dangerous. We have to get her to the safe house before his friends show up."

"Hard to believe a bastard like that even has friends."

Stomach churning, Annette kept her head down even when the hand pulled away. They continued to talk, speaking of coded messages and headquarters. Someone named Stephanie would be pissed about the damage to the car.

"Alright now, Miss Jacobs, yeh can sit up now."

The driver. Was his accent Irish? Slowly she raised her head, which swam as bits of glass rolled down her back. She blinked, hardly seeing the lights and buildings as the car sped through the city streets. The cool spring air whipped through the car thanks to the shattered rear window and she shivered. Trembling hands lifted to pluck glass from her hair. "Wh... Who are you?"

"Me name's Stephen, Miss. But yeh can call me Ste."

She nodded, stomach twirling as he made a sudden turn. "A-and how do you know my name?"

"We know a bit more than your name." This from the Englishman. When she glanced over she saw he was reloading his gun. In the dim light she noticed a bleeding nick on his cheek.

"Where are you taking me? I have to get back to the museum—"

"Afraid we can't let you do that, Miss Jacobs. Too dangerous." He tucked the gun away inside his jacket then reached to wipe the blood from his cheek. "We're taking you somewhere safe, don't worry. You can trust us."

"I was just chased for I don't know how far—"

"'Bout three kilometers," Stephen put in.

"Yes, thank you. I was just chased for three kilometers—"

"In high heels, no less. Good on you, Miss Jacobs."

The Englishman was laughing at her. The sound didn't come from him, but his grin spoke volumes. "I had a gun at my back, I was shot at, and I have no clue as to why any of this happened. You expect me to trust you? How do I know you're not with him?"

"If we were, would I have been shooting at the bastard?" He wiped at his cheek again.

"I don't know. Why is this happening?" As she spoke she uncurled her fingers from her small clutch purse. She remembered the hand reaching for it, the fear that she was about to be mugged in the middle of the party. She had maintained a death grip on it throughout, though, and now reached inside. Had she known what would happen, she would have gladly handed it over. The white handkerchief she pulled out was utterly feminine, a froth of lace edging the thin linen, but she folded it in half and reached to press it to the cut on his cheek.

"We'll tell you everything you need to know when we get to the safe house."

"Could you at the very least tell me your name?" she requested.

"Stu." He reached up, slipping her hand from the cloth at his cheek. "Pleased to meet you finally, by the way."

"'Finally?' What—"

"Goin' through the back," Stephen announced. The car bounced over uneven pavement after being guided between two buildings. When he cut the headlights she saw only the faint outline of a door at the back. None of the windows inside gave off light, and there were no other cars that she could see.

Had they brought her here to kill her?

"Blackout curtains, Miss Jacobs." Stu opened the door and climbed out, eyes scanning the immediate area. When he reached to help her out she hesitated.

"S'alright, Miss. We're the good guys." Stephen patted her arm. "Ah'll be in after ah get rid of the car."

Yes, that made her feel better, Annette thought sarcastically. Nodding, she slid across the seat, wincing as glass scraped at her flesh. Stu's warm hand grasped hers and then she was out, immediately looking for a way to escape. When the car door slammed she jumped.

The hand moved to her arm and he guided her towards the door as the car eased off into the night. As they approached she heard the slide of locks and bolts from inside. Her steps faltered when the door opened, a shaft of light falling from the crack.

Stu's grip tightened to keep her from backing away. "It's only Drew. He's one of us."

"How many of you are there?" she asked warily, giving up on flight. There had been so many turns and roundabouts that she would never find her way back to the museum.

"Just the three, but we're part of a larger operation."

The door shut behind them as soon as they were inside. A large room was before her. She saw the table across the way with computers. One wall was taken up with monitors and she realized each showed an area of the building, inside and out. There were a variety of take-out boxes littering a table; the smell of stale food permeated the air. A set of iron stairs led up to she knew not where.

"Alright there, Miss Jacobs."

She turned her wary gaze on the owner of the Scottish accent. English, Irish, Scottish. Would the next person she met be Welsh? "I..." She trailed into nothing, not knowing how to reply to such a statement. It wasn't a question. And she was certain she couldn't classify herself as alright for the time being.

"Drew, shut up." Stu's hand moved to rest on her back. She felt him tense as his palm lay over her bare skin. "Miss Jacobs, there's a room upstairs ready for you. When Ste gets back one of us will go to your apartment and get some of your things, but for now you can get the glass out of your hair and change."

Without waiting for an answer he guided her up the stairs, hand warm against her skin. Still wary, she let her eyes dart about for a possible escape route as they passed the first room on the left. A small bathroom. The second door on the right he opened and she took a deep breath when he stepped inside before her.

"Not very charming but decoration was the last thing on our minds," he explained when she entered the room.

Annette looked around, noting a utilitarian feel to the bedroom. A lamp on the nightstand, next to a bed that was covered with a plain blue comforter. A table beneath the blacked-out window coupled with a straight-back chair and a tall bureau made up the only furniture. The wooden floor featured a blue area rug and she nodded. "And how long am I going to be held prisoner here?"

"As long as it takes." He motioned to the bureau. "We weren't sure of your size but there are a couple things in there you can change into. Bathroom across the hall if you need to wash off. You might want to, there's a bit of blood on your back." He rubbed his fingers together as he spoke and she saw the trace of blood there.

The idea of removing her clothes while strange men lingered practically outside the door didn't appeal to her. But she nodded, arms folded tightly across her middle. Purse still clutched in her hand, she gasped when he plucked it from her grasp. "What—"

"Your cell phone."

She cringed when he flipped it open, his brutish fingers pushing around the contents before finally curling around her phone. She had forgotten it was in there and wondered if she would have been able to call for help.

"The people we're dealing with are very smart, Miss Jacobs. It's possible they know as much about you as we do, and it's possible they know more. Sophisticated criminals can find you in seconds nowadays." He looked at her phone for a few seconds. "Good. You had it turned off completely."

She could only watch in horror as he pried off the battery cover. Fingers now nimble, he plucked out the battery, slipping it into the pocket of his slacks. A small cry bubbled up her throat as he snapped the phone in two. The sound of plastic splintering seemed to echo within the room and she pressed a hand to her mouth.

"We'll get you a new one when this is all over. And don't worry, I made sure Cody backed up your contacts and everything earlier today." He jammed his hand into the purse again, this time coming out with her keys. "We'll need these."

Annette didn't want to know who Cody was. "You just—" She shook her head. "When am I going to find out what this is all about?" she asked, changing topics. "You promised answers, and I want them."

"When Ste gets back. Now please, try to calm down. Freshen up. There's toiletries in the top drawer." Stu turned at the doorway. "The window is sealed, by the way."

With that, he left the room. The door clicked shut behind him and for one brief, horrible moment she thought he was going to lock her inside. But she heard his steps retreat down the hall. And she breathed a little easier.

* * *

When he entered the building, his gaze immediately moved around the room. It was second nature now. He shut the heavy door and fastened the locks once spying Drew at the computer.

"Where's Stu?" he asked.

"Upstairs. Her Highness informed us the clothes in her room are too tight, so he's trying to find something she can wear until we get her apartment cleared." Drew's eyes never left the computer screen a he spoke. One hand reached out to grasp the can of Pepsi next to him. "We sure as hell got ourselves a real pip this time."

"She's not the dregs of society we're used to dealing with," Stephen agreed as he shrugged out of his jacket. "Send a message to Cody. Tell him the car's in the drop-off spot."

"Will do."

Stephen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he entered the room further. He winced at the grit of safety glass still clinging to his shirt and knew a shower was in order. But it would have to wait. There was too much to do at the moment. Stepping over to the coffeepot on the counter, he poured himself a cup and took a sip. He winced at the taste; it had obviously been sitting too long. Too impatient to wait for another pot to brew, though, he took another sip as he approached his makeshift desk.

"Ah, shit."

Drew's outburst had him turning in that direction. When he saw the photos loading on the screen, he released a string of curses. His coffee was forgotten as Drew brought up the first.

The woman was still wearing her dress. Had he not seen her enter the museum earlier that evening he would have now thought it to be crimson red. But the memory of white ruffles floated in his mind and he realized the dress was soaked with blood. Her face was a blood-splattered mask of pain; her fingers curled as though reaching. Spikes through her wrists held her against the the door.

"Bloody hell."

Stephen glanced from the close-up image of the woman's neck to see Stu standing next to him. The face of his closest friend was a stoic mask, but Stephen saw the disgust and outrage in the man's eyes.

"It's a crucifix," Drew murmured. "The ankles lashed together, the arms outstretched. I'd bet anything she was stabbed in the side."

"At the museum, though?" Stephen asked in disbelief, turning his attention to the gaping wound on the woman's neck. "Any leads?"

"Not yet. She was found when they were closing the museum." Drew reached for his Pepsi again. "Says here she went looking for Miss Jacobs and never came back."

"Marie Bertrand," Stu sighed. "The bastard couldn't get Miss Jacobs so he got her friend."

"Or he's telling us he can do whatever the fuck he wants," Stephen muttered.

"What about Marie?"

The sound of her voice, tense and worried, caused all three men to turn. Stephen cursed himself for not hearing her approach. Eyes wide with anxiety, she showed no hint of trepidation as she crossed the room. She was staring at the computer screen. And when she turned those wide eyes on him he couldn't find the words. "Ah..."

He looked to Stu, who seemed to share his discomfit. The Englishman cleared his throat and gestured aimlessly at the computer. "She was found dead a little while ago."

"Marie's d-dead?" she whispered.

_Fuck,_ Stephen thought. He should have known she would overhear them. Too late, he slipped his body between her and the computer to shield her from the photos on the screen. "Annette—"

"H-how?" she choked out. She was pale, eyes filling with tears and he knew she had seen the photos. The gruesome images of what had once been her closest – and only – friend in Paris.

"We don't know all the details yet," Stu answered gently.

"She was fine at the party, though. The last time I saw her, she was laughing and... He did this, didn't he? The man who was after me." One hand raised to cover her mouth. "Why? Because he couldn't get to me?"

Stephen met Stu's questioning gaze and nodded. There was no need to be delicate. "Yes and no. We think it's because he wants to make a statement."

"His way of scaring you into coming out where he can get you," Stu added.

Annette closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. "The blood," she whispered. "Marie hated the sight of blood."

"He probably knew that. The bastard knows everything."

Stephen winced at the hard tone his longtime partner and friend used. He saw her shoulders rise and fall, heard the shuddering sigh. He knew she was fighting the tears that continued to fall. Then came a sharp sob that was like a knife through his chest. Without thinking he reached for her. She wasn't like those he and his friends usually protected. They were frequently contracted to keep the lowest of the world's underbelly alive when in reality they would have loved to put the bastards out of their misery. Annette, though...

She tensed at the first contact, then quickly turned into him. Her hands fisted in the front of his shirt as her body shook with the force of her sobs. Not expecting her to cling to him, Stephen was at a loss and carefully put his arms around her. What he had meant to be a comforting pat on the shoulder had turned into an embrace. Looking over her head to Stu, he scowled at the look of amusement on the Englishman's face.

"One of us should get over to the apartment," Drew announced. He stood, draining the last of his Pepsi before tossing the can into the bin. "I'll go. Is there anything particular ya need, Miss?"

"Fucking idiot," Stu muttered. He reached into his pocket, then dropped a set of keys in Drew's hand. "Just get what you can."

"Th-there's a photo," she sniffled as she lifted her head. "On the dresser. My grandparents. Please."

Drew nodded. "Right." He shrugged on his jacket, ponytail swinging as he reached for the gun lying on the desk. When it was tucked into the back of his pants he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry about ya friend."

Annette nodded, pulling away from Stephen. "Could you get my messenger bag? It's on the couch."

"Not a problem."

Stephen turned to check his phone as Stu saw their coworker out. "Del Rio wants us out of here by dawn," he announced. "Ah'll start packing."

"I want the same thing." Stu began to roll up his sleeves. "I'll start down here."

"What can I do?"

The tentative question was a surprise. Looking over his shoulder he saw her, standing in the center of the room. She looked lost. Frightened. The baggy t-shirt and sweatpants threatened to swallow her whole. "Ah think we can handle it."

"Please. If I sit I'll think about..." She looked to the computer screen, which was now dark. "I'll go crazy. Something to keep my mind off it is what I need right now."

Stephen ran a hand down his face as his phone beeped with another message. Grateful for the diversion he pulled it up. "Drew's at the apartment," he told Stu. Turning his attention back to Annette he sighed. "Ah guess yeh can pack some food for the trip. Don't worry with gettin' everythin'. "

"Thank you," she whispered. Her hands swept over her tear-stained cheeks. She headed for the kitchenette. Then, turning, she met his eyes. "And... Thank you for saving my life."

Stephen nodded, watching her move across the room. His fingers moved over the screen of his phone, composing a message to Drew so he would know to hurry. There was no time to waste now. He pocketed the phone and turned his attention to the computer. _Thank you for saving my life_.

His only hope was that he could continue to do so.

* * *

Drew thanked his lucky stars for the charm that he had been born with. It had helped him in school, when he'd been less than interested in studying. The girls he lamented to had been eager to help him finish reports. It had helped since he'd finished as well, allowing him entry into places his coworkers would have been barred from. A tilt of the head, a certain smile, a few ingratiating words, and women were usually eating from the palm of his hand.

As he'd neglected to get the pass code for the security lock on the outer door of Annette's building, he had to lay the charm on thick. He knew the face of the older woman that eyed him suspiciously. He knew she ventured out rarely, so he went for the old tried and true. His girlfriend lived in the building and he was hoping to surprise her when she got home from work. He had a key but couldn't remember the code. Would it be too much to ask...

Success. He was always a bit surprised when it worked on those older than him. He expected them to be more suspicious, though they rarely were.

He took the stairs to avoid sharing an elevator with her. Annette's apartment was on the third floor, the last one on the left. He entered, grateful no lights were on as he closed the door behind him. The curtains were open. The city, which never slept, gave enough light to cross the room. There was a lovely view of the building across the alley and if one stood in the right spot they could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance. He leaned close to the glass and saw his car where he'd parked it, behind the Dumpster at the end of the alley. He yanked the curtains closed then switched on the nearby lamp.

He started in the bedroom. A small overnight bag would have to do since they had to travel light. Though he considered himself a connoisseur of women he had no earthly idea what she would need. Deciding on the basics, he began tossing clothes inside.

"A wee bit organized aren't we?" he asked aloud upon finding her shirts arranged by color. Each drawer of the dresser was the same. Everything folded neatly, sorted by color. "And a little racy, too," he mused as he came across several pairs of lacy panties.

The closet was more of the same. Meticulous organization, right down to the shoes lined up on the floor. He grabbed what he assumed to be the most sensible pair, tossing another pair into the bag just in case. Two jackets, the toiletries lined up on the sink in the bathroom, and the bag was full.

The photo she'd requested was where she'd said it would be. He picked up the small silver frame, taking a moment to look at the old black-and-white picture. Her grandparents, in their twenties he guessed, seated on a couch. A boy around the age of two was perched on the man's knee; a bundled baby in the woman's arms. They looked exhausted. They looked elated. They looked as though their lives were filled with love.

Slipping it into his pocket, he picked up the bag and left the room, remembering to turn off the light.

He was in the living room when he heard it. He wasn't quite sure what _it_ was. A shuffle. A heavy breath. A metallic click. Whatever, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He cautiously moved to the sofa, eyes scanning the room as he scooped the papers and laptop into the waiting messenger bag. One hand reached behind him to grasp the butt of his gun as he straightened.

The small closet. He had checked it when he'd come in and vividly remembered having to give the door a firm push to make sure it closed. It was now ajar. Eyes narrowing, Drew slid the gun from the back of his pants. His thumb turned off the safety and he took a step back.

A silencer, he realized as the door swung open. The bastard had a silencer. He spun out of the bullet's path and heard the shattering of glass as his finger squeezed the trigger. The door splintered and he fired again as a figure stepped out of the closet.

He recognized the tattooed arms. The beady, piercing eyes. The evil smirk. Even as the man staggered back he was smirking. His gun skittered across the floor as he slumped against the wall, one hand rising to clutch his shoulder.

"You tell your boys to let her go." Blood spilled between his fingers and Drew leveled the gun, prepared to fire again. "Blasphemers must pay for their sins."

A heavy fist pounded on the door of the apartment. In French, a deep voice demanded to know what was going on. Drew stepped over to the dropped gun, one eye on the bleeding man as he stooped to retrieve it.

"Finish me," the deep voice insisted as Drew backed to the window.

Drew shook his head. He slipped the gun into his jacket pocket and reached for his phone. "I think I'll leave that to whoever sent ya here. He won't be too happy with ya now, will he?" he asked. There was no time to dally.

"My master is fair and just. The wicked shall pay."

"And the meek shall inherit the earth. I know." Drew reared back and slammed the butt of his gun into the window. It cracked and with two more blows he was able to step through onto the fire escape. Relative safety, he decided with a cursory glance around him. He kept his gun at his side as he descended, eyes moving side to side to assure himself he was still alone. As his feet hit the pavement he heard a distant siren.

He dialed Stephen's phone as he began to sprint down the alley. "On my way," he announced. "Tell Del Rio to send someone to the apartment. I ran into an old friend."

"Who?"

Drew flung open the door of his waiting car. The bags were tossed into the passenger seat and he reached for the key tucked in the visor. He took a deep breath to calm his frazzling nerves, starting the car.

"Drew," Stephen called.

He didn't dare turn on his headlights yet. Maneuvering the car down the alley, he waited until he was nearly a block away before flipping the switch. Then, hearing Stephen say his name again, he answered him. It was one word, but one they both knew well. One that he knew meant more trouble than they'd originally thought.

"Orton."

**A/N: Yes, oh my gawd, it's a new story. I'm not going to apologize. This idea has been nagging me for weeks and I've finally gotten it sorted out in my mind. As it's my first long AU fic, I'm rather excited. I do hope you've enjoyed it. A tip of the hat to Amber for her unfailing support. A cheer for Jojo for her constant encouragement. Their excitement is contagious and I couldn't love them more. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Annette had grown to love the French countryside during her two months in the country. Many idle afternoons had been spent in a car, Marie in the passenger seat. Marie, teaching her the winding roads and villages. Marie, laughing in the sunshine as they tasted champagne. Marie...

Beautiful Marie. Witty, voluptuous, intelligent. A ringer for Marilyn Monroe who had perfected the jiggling steps of the Hollywood icon. Always in good spirits, ready with a glass of wine or cup of tea. The woman who was prepared for anything.

Except death.

When she opened her eyes there was no sunshine. There was no laughter. Her chest was a maelstrom of pain and anxiety. The car window was cool beneath her forehead; the blackness of the night seeming to seep into her soul. She blinked, the gory images of her friend still fresh in her mind, and felt her stomach roll. Her hands clenched in her lap and she felt the person next to her shift on the seat.

"Should be there in ten minutes," Stu announced from behind the wheel. He maneuvered the car expertly along the old country lane, aware of every bump and rut and acting accordingly. Annette met his eyes in the rearview mirror and saw the sympathy there.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. For the hours they'd been in the car her mind kept returning to the photos she had seen on the computer. The once vibrant woman, desecrated in death. When she closed her eyes again she saw the fear in Marie's eyes, the curled fingers. She could feel the fright. The blood. So much blood. Had she screamed? Had she fought? Or had she simply given in to the inevitable?

A hand rested on her arm, drawing her from her thoughts. She cried out and wrenched away, pressing her body against the door. Freezing when the hand gripped her shoulder, she willed her eyes open. Her breath refused to budge from her lungs.

The interior light was on. The car had stopped. The thump of the driver's door closing caused her to jump, and she brought her gaze to the concerned face of the man holding onto her.

"Yeh alright, Annette." Stephen maintained his grip on her shoulder. His face showed concern. "Ah didn't mean to scare yeh."

A dream. How had she fallen asleep? She nodded, forcing the breath out slowly. "I was..." She had to exhale again. Inhaling was another problem altogether. Would she ever breathe normally again? "Marie," she whispered.

"Ah wish yeh hadn't seen that," he murmured. The tight grip loosened as she sat up in the seat.

She shook her head. "I had to. I should know what I'm dealing with." Glancing out the window, she saw the shadow of a small house. As she looked on, an interior light switched on. Stephen reached across her to open the door. "Where are we?"

"Someplace safe," he answered as she slid out of the backseat. Stu was there, hand on her arm to steady her, and before she could reach for her bag she was being led across the gravel drive.

The scent of jasmine was heavy in the air but she paid little attention to the aroma that usually made her smile. Stu's hand moved to her back, a gentle pressure as he urged her across the threshold. Jasmine clung to the air inside as well and she spied a vase of the fragrant blooms on the small table behind the couch. The hand guiding her moved to her arm again, stopping her before could venture further inside.

"Clear," Drew's voice called from the stop of the stairs. "Looks like Mrs. DuBois was here earlier as planned. Fresh sheets, the fridge is stocked."

Annette stepped further into the room, rubbing her arms to ward away the sudden chill. When Drew had returned from her apartment there had been no time to change into her own clothes. Aside from allowing her to slip on a pair of her shoes, the men had been adamant that they leave immediately. The house – she supposed it was more of a cottage – was chilly, and she looked on as Stu moved to adjust the thermostat.

"Coffee?" she suggested as Drew came downstairs. "I'll make some," she added when Stu looked at her in confusion.

"Right." He shrugged out of his jacket. "First rule of this is you don't go anywhere alone. Except for the bathroom, someone has to be with you at all times."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "I'm just going to make coffee, I'm not—"

"Marie was just going to look for you," he reminded gently. His eyes met hers.

Shocked into silence, she pressed her lips together. She gave a curt nod and folded her arms around her middle, hating the tremor of fear that ripped through her at his words. Turning away when he began to unbutton the top buttons of the shirt, she dropped her gaze to the faded rug beneath her feet.

"Ste and I'll get the car unpacked. Drew, stay with her."

Drew released a sigh when the door clicked shut behind the Englishman. "He's a bit of an ass, but he means well," he said. "Kitchen's through here."

Annette followed him, remaining silent as she filled the carafe with water. She leaned against the counter. Exhaustion was starting to set in though she doubted she would sleep well. If at all. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Marie. The blood. The thick spikes holding her to the wall. Forcing the images away she pushed away from the counter and began opening cabinets to look for cups.

"I've got 'em," Drew said softly, hand covering hers when her hands began to shake. "Ya sure ya need the coffee?"

"I'm sure," she whispered, stepping away to let him deal with the cups. The sound of something landing on the floor in the next room startled her and she sank down in one of the chairs at the small breakfast table when her knees began to buckle. According to the clock on the wall it was three thirty. Too late for coffee to be sure. But she would need the caffeine to sustain whatever the rest of the night held in store for her.

She heard Drew inhale, expected him to speak, but he merely cleared his throat. From the next room came the sounds of heavy footfalls. Each time something landed on the floor she felt her heart jump. Would every tiny sound cause fear to rip down her spine? Raking her hands through her hair she sensed rather than heard the approach and looked up to see Stephen enter the kitchen. She hated the sympathetic look he cast in her direction. As though she were something to be pitied. Conversely, she hated that she hated his sympathy. Wouldn't she feel the same if their roles were reversed?

"How do you take your coffee?" she asked, forcing herself to stand.

"Ah can fix it. Go on in, we need to talk."

"Cream and sugar," Drew announced as he held a cup out to her. She glanced at the contents then looked up in surprise. One corner of his mouth lifted in a semblance of a smile. "Ya had the powdered stuff and a tin of sugar right next to the coffee maker. And there was a cup in the sink half-empty. I'm pretty sure I got it close to how you prefer."

She nodded, murmuring a thank-you as she took the cup. The coffee inside was the color of caramel and she took a tentative sip, giving him another nod. It wasn't perfect, but it was close enough. And she was too frazzled to complain at the moment.

Once they were all in the small living room, Stu pulled a folder from one of the boxes on the coffee table. "They're old. Drew, the newer ones should be in the database by now."

"On it," the Scotsman promised, getting to his feet.

Annette watched him lift the container that held all of the computer components and move into the small room on the other side of the stairs. "What is it that's old?" she ventured. She tried to not look at Stephen, who was going through the contents of her messenger bag.

Stu flipped the folder open. "Photos of the men that are after you."

"I'm sorry, but did you say 'men?' As in more than one?"

"There are eight that we know definitely that work with Orton. Probably more than that, now." Stu held the folder out to her and she took it. "Hopefully you've seen one or more of them in the past couple weeks and we can get a better handle on why they want you dead."

She flinched at the word. He didn't seem to notice and she was grateful. The face in the first photo meant nothing to her. The man looked like every stereotype of an escaped convict that had ever been. Tattoos, shaved head, a sour expression. She shook her head. She would remember someone like that, she was certain. With each photo she shook her head again, not recognizing any of the faces. "No," she whispered, placing the folder on the coffee table. "I've never seen them before in my life."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. I spend most of my days in the museum's basement. Aside from a few days here and there that I've been in an office, or walking through to go home, I'm rarely inside the public areas."

"They could be anywhere. A sidewalk cafe, walking down the street." His gaze was intense. "I need you to think long and hard, Annette."

"Stu." Stephen's voice was barely above a whisper but the warning was clear, even to Annette.

"We can't handle this with bloody kid gloves, mate." Stu rose to his feet, one hand sliding through his black hair. "Think, Annette. Has there been anyone that's given you a strange vibe since you started working at the museum?"

"No, there hasn't been," she promised. "Not until tonight. And the man that chased me isn't either of these." She indicated the folder. "He was blonde, but not like the one in there. He..." She paused, struggling to recall every detail of the few glimpses she'd gotten of the man. "He was older. I'd say late thirties. Blue eyes. Some facial hair. A bit like yours," she explained, looking to Stu. "And his hair was spiked in the front. That's all I can remember."

Silence filled the room after her description. She feared she had given them little to work on, she closed her eyes, conjuring up the brief seconds when she'd seen his face. Nothing new came to her though.

"Ah don't believe it." This from Stephen. Annette looked to see him opening her laptop.

"It fits, though," Stu commented. "He wouldn't want to run the risk of her getting away. It must be important to him. He's not the type to give the job to someone else."

"So yeh sayin' he did the job on Marie?"

"That fits too. He's a madman, Ste."

"That he is." Stephen ran a hand over his face and pushed the laptop onto the cluttered coffee table.

"Who's a madman?" Annette ventured in confusion, not liking the new tension that filled the air.

"Jericho." Stu uttered the word as though it were the vilest of curses.

"His real name is Irvine, but he goes by Jericho," Stephen added.

"Alright. So now you know who it is. Can't you call this mysterious Del Rio and have him send out a team to get him?"

Stu's chuckle was mirthless. "Not hardly. You can't just go knock on his door. He's got more money than God and keeps himself protected. There were probably half a dozen of his men with him tonight."

Annette finished her coffee, glancing up when Drew entered carrying a handful of printouts. "So what do you do exactly? Are you connected with Interpol?"

"We've worked with them in the past," Drew answered. He handed the printouts to Stephen before sinking onto the couch. He looked to the laptop then glanced to her. "May I?"

She nodded. "The password is—"

"Don't tell 'im," Stephen intervened. "It's like a game."

"My best time is fifteen seconds. And that was without my encryption software." Drew pulled the laptop onto his lap.

Annette couldn't understand why breaking past someone's attempt at security was such a delight. Nonetheless she nodded, turning her attention back to Stu. "Are you a British agency? I'm just trying to.. Why would three men who obviously have a beef with this Jericho want to help me?"

"Let's just say we're part of an organization. It's not just the three of us. We have a team at headquarters that's lending us a hand."

"And this Del Rio? Who is he? Your boss?"

"He wishes," Drew muttered.

"Del Rio is just one of many that work with us." Stu passed the printouts to her. "Look over these. They're from the past month. There are a couple more faces that weren't in the first batch."

Knowing she would get no more answers from him, she did as told. "These two are familiar." She indicated the first two photos. "But I'm not sure if it's because I've seen them in Paris or because of the pictures I just looked at." Stu nodded, motioning for her to finish and though she understood his impatience she disliked it. The photos triggered nothing. When she came to the last, though, she froze.

Tall. Broad shoulders. A distinctive nose. But what leaped to her memory was the thick dreadlocks. She lifted the photo, recalling the man who had stooped to retrieve coins that had fallen from her purse one afternoon at a coffee shop. She had thanked him and then enjoyed her latte while watching the rain from the window. When she had headed for the door he had been going out as well. She recalled his smile as he held the door for her, then him telling her to watch her step. At the time she had thought it nice that there were still decent people in the world.

But he was connected to the people that wanted her dead.

"Where did you see him?" Stu pressed when she continued to stare at the photo. When she told him, he nodded. "He probably followed you."

"I don't know. When I walk I tend to think about the project I'm on. I've never been one to notice other people. He stuck out though because he was nice."

"Have you seen him since?"

"No. I think I would remember." A headache was starting to brew in her temples. She set the photo down and gently rubbed the aching spots.

"Ah think that's enough for tonight," Stephen murmured. He stood and she caught the look that passed between he and Stu. "She needs to get some sleep."

"Nice background." Drew indicated her laptop screen.

Stephen cleared his throat from the bottom of the stairs. "Ah'll show yeh to yeh room."

She reached for her mug to carry it to the kitchen but Stu had already scooped it up. Standing, she rubbed her arms as she moved to the stairs.

"Annette."

She looked back at the sound of her name and saw Stu watching her. He looked as though he were going to say something of importance but gave a slight shake of his head.

"Get some rest," was all he said before disappearing into the kitchen.

* * *

Though she had bristled at the knowledge that he wasn't going anywhere, Annette had finally given up arguing about his staying in her room. Stephen understood her aversion to the idea. In the space of seven hours her life had been turned upside down. She'd been accosted, chased, shot at, and dragged off by complete strangers. She'd lost a close friend in a gory murder, learned it was a group of people targeting her, and had been dragged off yet again.

She had finally escaped to the bathroom, saying she needed a hot shower. When she'd come out, he'd seen the redness in her eyes. Not that he'd needed that to know she had spent the majority of her time in the shower crying. There had been a tiny upset over the fact Drew had neglected to pack any pajamas in her bag. When she'd suggested going to bed wearing the towel that was wrapped around her, Stephen had quickly offered something of his.

And now she was faking sleep. He knew because every few moments she would sigh. Slouched in the armchair in the corner of the room, he looked over at her when another sigh filled the room. The glow of the bathroom light which he'd left on at her request was enough that he could see her. She lay on her side, long blonde hair spilling across the pillow. The thin coverlet was pulled up to her waist. One arm lay at her side and as he watched her fingers lightly drummed her thigh. The gray t-shirt he'd given her to wear contrasted against the sheet.

He wondered what her story was. He knew a lot about her already. Her birthday, where she had gone to school, the degrees she had earned while in university. He knew how long she'd been in France, and that she had spent two weeks touring Europe before starting her job at the museum. He knew from reconnaissance that she usually had a croissant and coffee for breakfast, a salad and water for lunch, and a heavy meal for dinner. He knew she liked good wine and fresh flowers because they had seen her purchase both frequently.

But what had brought her to France? What had spurred her to venture far from home? Had she had a falling out with her family? And what did her boyfriend think of her taking a job in another country? For surely she had one. Perhaps several, he thought.

"Stephen?"

He sat upright at the sound of her voice. It was timid, and for a second he thought she had seen or heard something that had missed his notice. His hand moved for the gun tucked between the cushion and the arm of the chair. A quick sweep of the room assured him nothing was amiss, so he took a calming breath. "Yeah?"

"Do you do this a lot?"

"Yeh mean 'this' as in sit and watch women sleep?" he returned, smiling when he was rewarded with a soft chuckle.

"No, not that. This... Mystery and intrigue. Gunfights and speeding cars."

"Ah wouldn't say Ah do it a lot," he answered after a moment. "Maybe once every two or three months."

"Having dealt with it for a few hours, I can safely say I never want to do it again," she murmured. "Doesn't your wife worry to death over you?"

"Ah'm not married," he chuckled.

"Oh." She was quiet for so long he thought she had truly fallen asleep. Then, she whispered, "I'm scared."

"That's understandable. Anyone would be." He stood, stretching a kink out of his back as he moved to look out the window. The lane leading to the cottage was dark. In the distance he saw the lights of the nearest house. And beyond that, the hint of a sunrise.

"Do you think Marie..." The springs of the bed squeaked as she sat up. Stephen glanced back to see her pushing the coverlet and sheet away. "Do you think she suffered? Did he kill her before he put her on the wall?"

"Ah don't know," he answered. The pain in her voice made it impossible for him to tell her what he had already learned. Marie had been tortured before Jericho had finally ended her life. The slicing of her jugular vein had killed her almost instantly, but she had already been posed in the crucifix before it had been done.

"She was more than my boss," Annette murmured. "In the two months I've been in France she had become almost like a sister. She got my apartment for me before I left America, did you know that? And she helped me find secondhand furniture. When I tried to pay her back for all she'd done, she told me to stop being ridiculous." She smiled. "'You Americans and your money. Why do you have to pay for kindness?'" she quoted. "That's what she told me. She was such a wonderful person. And now she's—"

Stephen braced himself. Even though the sob was expected it cut through him. Again he found himself moving closer to her. Reaching for her. He sat next to her on the bed, with its linens that smelled of lavender, and drew her close. This time she didn't grow tense; instead she curled close to him. He stayed quiet as she cried. He knew her tears were for more than her friend.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, drawing away to wipe at her tears. "It's been a long day. And night. It's almost morning again and I'm so exhausted I can't see straight. But I'm afraid to go to sleep."

"S'alright," he murmured, reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. Once she had cleared her tears he lightly cupped her shoulder. "Ah'm going to be here for a while. Nothin's goin' to get yeh."

"I know, I just..." Annette shook her head. She straightened her shoulders a little as she leaned back against the pillows. "I'm sure you're tired. You don't have to stay awake just because I am."

"Ah don't mind." Instinctively he reached to brush a lock of hair out of her face. Realizing how forward the gesture was he drew his hand away quickly. Clearing his throat, he stood and moved to the window again.

"Where in Ireland are you from?" she asked after a moment.

"Dublin. Cabra to be exact."

"What's it like?"

Eyes never leaving the lightening horizon, he told her of his working-class background. He found it easy to tell her about growing up and dreaming of getting away from near-poverty. He spoke of his siblings and the trouble they'd gotten into. She was so quiet he thought she had fallen asleep, and when the sun finally peeked over the horizon he turned to check.

She smiled faintly. Still awake. Feeling as though he'd shared too much he retreated to his chair, leaning his head back. Just in case, he slipped his gun from the cushion and rested it in his lap. He managed to find a comfortable position and closed his eyes. The room grew quiet and after several moments had passed he cracked one eye to check on her.

Whether his rambling had calmed her or the rising sun had eased her mind he would never know. All that mattered was that she was asleep.

* * *

Annette woke with a start. There was a moment of panic as consciousness came and she lay in the bed frozen in fear. Still gripped by the vivid nightmare that refused to be shaken away she clutched the coverlet. She forced her breathing to calm and stubbornly refused to think of the images that had taken over while she slept. Rolling into a seated position she looked around the room. The sunlight that spilled through the open curtains gave the room a cheery atmosphere. It seemed impossible that the horrors of the night before had actually occurred when she took in the floral wallpaper and furniture, which she recognized as provincial design.

Stephen was asleep, she saw. She doubted he could fake sleep as she had attempted before sunrise. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, one arm resting over his abdomen. Red hair was stark against his pale forehead. Her heart stuttered in her chest upon seeing the gun on his thigh. Even in sleep he had his hand over it, obviously ready to use it if necessary.

Quietly as possible, so as not to disturb him, she slipped from the bed. The need for the bathroom was strong. She tiptoed across the room. A low rumble from his chest caused her to freeze, but he remained asleep. A soft sigh of relief passed her lips and she made her way into the bathroom.

The flushing of the toilet sounded like Niagara Falls and she winced at the noise. She splashed cold water from the faucet onto her face. Refusing to look at her reflection she grabbed the hand towel hanging next to the sink. She had no desire to see how exhausted and frightened she looked. She made sure to duck her head to avoid catching a glimpse of herself and turned to exit the room. The door swung inward just as she reached to open it, causing her to take a step backward.

She expected Stephen, but Stu was on the other side. How had he gotten into the room without Stephen waking?

"There's fresh coffee downstairs. Get dressed, we've got work to do." Before she could reply he turned. Once he had moved from blocking the doorway she saw Stephen sitting up in the chair, hiding a yawn behind his hand.

He mumbled something but she couldn't understand as Stu left the room. As she gathered her clothes she heard him move across the room. When she turned, he was slipping his gun into the holster tucked into the back of his pants. Hugging her clothes to her chest, she cleared her throat. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Little bit." He looked up from his phone. "And yehself?"

"Same." Her smile was strained, but he returned it.

Stu glanced pointedly at his watch when she entered the kitchen. "I've got your things laid out on the table," he announced, nodding to the dining room. "I want to go through all your notes and journals on the work you've been doing. It's possible you uncovered something that someone wants to keep hidden."

Feeling rushed, Annette poured herself a cup of coffee. A box of pastries lay on the counter. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, reminding her it had been hours since she'd last eaten. A glance to the clock had her realizing it was after noon. And she was still exhausted. Would she ever feel rested again?

"Help yourself, by the way. Drew's going to fix lunch when he finishes cross-referencing your call log." Stu reached around her to get a mug from the cabinet.

Unnerved by his closeness, Annette regarded the sticky roll already pinched between two fingers. "Thank you," she murmured.

"If you need to contact anyone back home, let me know and I'll arrange a safe call. Do you keep in touch with your family?"

"I call my mother once or twice a week," she informed, shuffling to one side so she didn't feel so crowded. "I spoke to her yesterday, so she shouldn't be expecting me to call anytime soon."

"Might be a good idea to call her regardless." He filled his mug with coffee and met her gaze. "If you don't, you may never have another chance."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, the pastry she had consumed feeling like a lead weight in her chest. "Right."

"I didn't mean it that way." He drained half the cup in one gulp and pushed the box of pastries closer to her. "I'm saying we're going to be busy. It's my job to keep you alive. And I do my job very well."

"Have you ever lost anyone?" she asked.

Stu's eyes hardened. He set the mug down with a loud thud. "One," he answered curtly. "Top off your coffee and let's get to work."

* * *

Blue eyes danced with excitement as he admired his handiwork. What he had originally intended to be a keepsake would now have to be used for other purposes.

He placed the lid on the small box and taped it closed. He considered wrapping it but knew _they_ would unwrap it before she could see. Settling for no decoration, he slipped the box into the padded envelope, which was already labeled. The note he had typed up earlier was folded and slipped inside as well.

Yes, this would make her realize he meant business.

He gestured to the woman sitting idly in the chair on the other side of his desk. She stood, flicking back her ebony locks and approached him with a sultry smile.

"This needs to be delivered immediately." he spoke in French. Her native language, one of several that he knew fluently. "Make sure no one sees you."

Her dark eyes brightened at the special job, and she took the package, clutching it to her ample chest. She spoke, words of adoration. He nodded, mind on other details that needed his attention, and dismissed her with a kiss to her powdered cheek.

When she was gone, he leaned back in his seat, chuckling as he imagined her reaction to the gift he sent. The bitch thought she was safe.

He looked to the calendar and his grin was manic. "Ten days, my sweet. In ten days, you'll be mine."

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the AMAZING response! I only hope I can meet your expectations for this. T, Nikki, prettybaby69, charmedbyortonbarrett, Malabrigo, ThatGirl54, Shannon, Amber, Jojo, BarretsGirl – thank you for your wonderful reviews!**

**Another big thank-you to Jojo and Amber for their unfailing support. I honestly would have given up this whole writing gig a long time ago if not for you two. A tip of the hat to Dana for her encouragement and letting me whine about plotting. **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The papers spread across the table constituted nearly two months of her work. Stu could tell just by looking at page after page that she had spent countless hours typing up the reports for her supervisor. Countless more had been spent on her personal notes. Her thoughts on a particular piece of work, her personal research into an obscure artist. With each report were photos of the piece she had uncovered in the archives. He and Drew had spent two hours sorting through all the documents and photos on her laptop, compiling them so each stack on the table represented one piece.

He couldn't fight the nagging feeling that the answer to the biggest question lay on the table. Why? Why would someone like Annette Jacobs be targeted by Jericho and his group?

She joined him, coffee in hand, and wordlessly lifted the sheaf of papers closest to her. "_Young Lady on a Stair_," she murmured. "Unsigned, undated. The fashion of the lady indicates the 1830s, though. It was bequeathed to the museum about ten years ago from an elderly man in Versailles. When contacted, his son said he had no recollection of where his father got the painting."

She may as well have been reading a technical manual. Her voice was cool and steady. Stu shook his head. "I doubt he gives a damn about that." He reached for the stack in front of him. He read off the name of the piece and saw the quick shake of her head.

"A copy of a Renoir. The museum has had it for decades. It was shuffled to the basement years ago after water damage."

Stu flipped to the bottom of the stack to view the photos. "No funds to restore it, then?"

"No. They were hoping it could be restored now but with the mold..." She sighed, toying with the handle of her mug as she reached for the next stack. "I'm grateful it wasn't an actual Renoir, just a copy made by an art student. Still, to see it ruined..."

"Right."

They worked in relative silence. Occasionally she would pass a packet of information to him for additional perusal. The discard pile was growing and there was no sign of finding anything that Jericho would be interested in. Stu grunted when Drew came to the door to announce lunch was ready.

Annette rubbed her eyes as she sat back. He glanced up from the papers in his hand to see her fingers slide through her tousled hair. The movement revealed a classical profile. It was one he knew well, having viewed surveillance photos of her over recent weeks. But grainy pictures on a computer screen did little to show him the true person. Having been in her presence for nearly twenty-four hours, he wasn't quite sure what to think of her. She possessed a certain strength he wouldn't have thought possible. There were moments of weakness but he doubted anyone would be immune to such events.

"Let's stop and eat," he suggested, dropping the papers onto the table.

Drew kept up a rambling monologue as they ate, describing the local village. Stu hardly listened, having already visited it when he and Stephen had been arranging safe locales for Annette to stay. She seemed interested though, and was able to break in with a question now and then.

"I'd love to see it," she murmured as she carried her plate to the sink. "Would it be possible—"

"No," Stu broke in before she could complete the request. She turned, obviously surprised by his outburst, and he shook his head. He scraped back his chair. "It's not safe. There's no way of knowing where his men are, and if you're seen..." He let the threat hang in the air and saw her shoulders round forward a little more. Picking up his empty plate he moved to the sink, catching her arm before she could step out of his reach. "And don't even think of trying to sneak out. I hope like hell that what happened to your friend Marie gave you an idea of what we're dealing with. These men don't play games, Annette."

"I'm aware of that," she whispered. She stared up at him, light green eyes luminous. "I understand. I won't do anything stupid."

When she tugged her arm he realized how tight his grip was. Releasing her, he turned to watch his plate slide into the sink, dragging a hand down his face. "See that you don't."

They were back in the dining room before she spoke again. She had one elbow propped on the table, holding her head up as she idly flipped through pages. "_Guilt_. Artist unknown. Circa... This is interesting."

Stu looked up when he heard the change in her tone. "What?"

"This painting. It looks as though it was painted from a mosaic." She moved to the seat next to him and placed a printout in front of him. "See how parts of the face are missing? Reminiscent of ancient mosaics."

He nodded. The face was the only detail in the painting. "What's known about it?"

"Not a lot. It was donated anonymously a few years back. When I tried to track down the previous owner I couldn't find anything." Annette sighed and tapped one finger against the page. "It bothered me, not knowing anything more than what was in the museum's records. I intended to try the internet but I got sidetracked."

"I can see why the artist named it _Guilt_," he mused, rubbing his chin as the haunting eyes stared back at him. "How old is it?"

"Not very. It was done no later than the 1990s." She leaned across him to retrieve a pen.

He caught the faintest whiff of floral soap and fought the memories. Closing his eyes, the urge to visit the past strong. But he steeled himself, forcing them away as she began to scribble notes. He wouldn't be drawn in. He couldn't.

"The mosaic – if that's what it was taken from – could have been done at anytime, though. Roman, perhaps? Greek? Perhaps early Christianity..." She looked up at him. "Could I use the computer? I want to check out a few things. Unless... What?"

"Did you say early Christianity?"

"Yes. Mosaics were very popular in that time period. This was centuries before stained glass. Temples, even those tucked far away from prying eyes, featured man scenes of Christ's life." She tapped the pen against the table.

"Jericho has had ties to religious fanaticism in the past." Stu pushed back from the table and stood. "Drew will let you use one of the computers. Find out what you can. I'll finish looking through these."

"Why would he be interested in this, though?" she inquired, looking down at the printout. "Early depictions of Christ have him looking gentle, if a bit resigned. Whereas this..."

"Is one with a tormented soul," he murmured. He knew all about them. "And there's no telling. The man doesn't have to make sense. And it won't hurt if you find out more about the painting."

* * *

"First things first," Stu announced as he parked the car at the far end of the gravel lot. Through the front window, Annette could see people milling in and out of the market. Tired-looking women towing boisterous toddlers, a few older women taking their time as they looked over the selection of produce beneath the canopy. Some couples, each showing varying degrees of affection.

The scarf wrapped around her head caused the nape of her neck to itch. Stu had insisted on the disguise. She had caught his muttered suggestion that she dye her hair but had ignored it. If it came to it she would, but surely it wasn't necessary yet. Reaching to adjust the knot of the scarf, she looked to him expectantly.

"You stay at my side. No wandering. As far as anyone here is concerned we're a couple on holiday." He pulled his sunglasses from the neckline of his gray t-shirt and slipped them on. "An Englishman and his very shy American wife."

"Wife?" she repeated, voice barely above a squeak as he climbed out of the car. Astounded at the very idea of being thought of as his wife, she could only stare as he rounded the front and opened her door. "Did you say wife?"

"Naturally. My parents raised a gentleman, Annette. And I can't very well take you on our honeymoon if we aren't married."

Slipping on her own sunglasses, she climbed out. She refrained from questioning his motives, too grateful to be away from the cottage. The trip into the village was only to pick up a few supplies, but she had leaped at the chance. With Stephen still asleep upstairs and Drew tracking down possible leads on the painting, there had been no one to, in Stu's words, keep an eye on her. She had found it interesting that he had said she could go, especially after his harsh words earlier. But she wasn't going to argue. The spring afternoon was bright and sunny, begging to be spent outdoors.

His hand closed over hers as they crossed to the rustic building. She sent him a glance and saw his lips pull into a quick smile. It was reassuring. She looked away, unconsciously gazing at each person they passed. Looking for a familiar face, though she prayed there would be none.

Stu guided her into the market, his free hand pulling the sunglasses from his face as they stepped into the shade of the canopy. He released her hand when she began to peruse the fresh produce but stayed close, hand resting on her back. She bumped into him as she turned to place her selections in the basket he carried. The smile that pulled at his lips was genuine and she was struck by how handsome he truly was. The skin around his eyes crinkled, the unique green orbs glinting.

He was, she decided as they ventured further into the market, a very good actor. Judging from their tense words since meeting, she would never have guessed the man knew how to smile.

She was distracted by a display of chocolates and looked over the selection with longing. One earpiece of her sunglasses in her mouth, she thought longingly of the expensive chocolates going to waste in her apartment. She turned to him to ask if she could get some when she saw his eyes narrow. He was looking beyond her. The hand on her back gave her a gentle nudge, pushing her closer to the wall. He spun her around to face him as her back met the wall and she braced her hands on his broad chest. Tilting her head back to look up at him, she opened her mouth to ask what he was doing.

"Just go with it," he whispered before his lips descended over hers.

Annette's body tensed at the sudden action but he showed no signs of pulling away. His lips slid over hers threatening to push away all the fears, worries, and troubles. She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt. Fully prepared to push him away she froze when his hand cupped her cheek.

"One of them is here." His breath fanned over her skin. When her lips parted he made a soft 'shh' sound. The pad of his thumb brushed over her bottom lip and then his mouth was there again. Hard, almost bruising, tasting of the Altoids mint he had popped while driving to the village.

"Where?" she gasped when he gave her a chance to breathe again.

"To your right. Red t-shirt, navy blue cap."

Annette glanced over, clutching his t-shirt when she saw the man he spoke of. "Are you sure?" she whispered. She shrank back in an attempt to hide herself further as the man moved in their direction. His face turned and she caught the profile she had seen in one of the photos Stu had shoved at her the night before. Or had she seen him somewhere else? Her mind swirled as she struggled to recall where the recognition was coming from. She ducked her head as he glanced in her direction, biting down on her bottom lip when Stu pressed even closer to her. "He's going away."

"Good." Stu sneaked a glance over his shoulder then he was back, lips covering hers before she could react. She felt the first tingles of awareness. There was a slight hint that he felt it, too, and he tore his lips from hers with a muttered curse. "He should be gone now."

"Right." She nodded, forcing her mind to clear as he took a step back. When she attempted to look up at him he turned his head and she wondered briefly what secrets hid behind his eyes. But she knew this was neither the time nor the place to inquire and pushed away from the wall after receiving a nod from him.

"He may come back, so we need to rush." Stu looked at the display of chocolates and tossed a box into the basket.

They were in line at the counter, waiting to pay, when his cell phone rang. Annette took the full basket from him so he could answer and watched out the corner of her eye as he spoke. And listened. His expression changed from mild annoyance to disbelief to pure rage.

"What? When? We're on the way back now," he snapped as they stepped up to the counter. The phone was shoved into the pocket of his jeans and he grabbed Annette's arm. When he spoke it was barely above a whisper and wiped away what little brightness that had remained. "Tell them to hurry up. We're needed at the house immediately."

* * *

_Negev Desert, Israel_

Hands lay on the cool stone slab. Peace filled him as the words ingrained in him as a youth flowed from his mouth. Words of retribution, of atonement, of fulfilling his promise. His fingers smoothed over the stone as his prayer finished and he bowed, lips brushing the head of the stone.

Eyes closed in reverence, he remained on his knees. Images flashed in his mind. The blood. The screams. The chants and sounds of joy that washed away the fleeting moments of terror. Hands still on the stone, he could feel the warmth of the blood spilling over his fingers; he could hear the shrieks of unadulterated happiness.

_Soon_, he thought as he rose to his feet. The eyes on the wall stared at him as they always did, following him as he backed out of the room. _Soon_.

She was waiting for him just outside. She said nothing; she was starting to learn her place. When they reached his house outside Jerusalem he would fuck her. Not that he particularly wanted to. He would much rather preserve his energy for the bitch that had slipped away. But she would do. A willing partner was better than no partner at all.

He thought of her the entire time, imagining her reactions to the things he enjoyed. She would fight him, he knew. And he would enjoy every moment. She would scream, she would beg, she may even cry. When he finished, her blood would spill over his fingers. Her blood would stain the ancient stone.

Her blood would wash away the sins of others.

"You think your little American will enjoy this before you kill her?"

Her voice, breaking into his thoughts, and he saw red. He looked down, saw his hand wrapped around her throat. He squeezed tighter. Her eyes widened and she barely whispered the word. The word that was supposed to make him stop. The word he had told her to use when things got out of hand.

This time, she used it too late.

He watched her eyes start to roll back as his hips continued their relentless thrusting. Her body began to spasm beneath his. She pulled in vain at the leather binding her wrists to the bed. He squeezed harder, ignoring the perspiration that dripped into his eyes. The sounds coming from her throat were nearly inhuman but he barely heard them above the blood roaring in his ears. When she went limp he raised his left hand to her chin and wrenched it to the side. As the bones in her neck snapped the orgasm ripped through his body.

Cigarette smoke floated to the ceiling and he looked at her body as he stood at the foot of the bed. Wrists bound, legs spread, she looked thoroughly relaxed. A smirk pulled at his lips. He slowly rounded the bed. Ashes dropped from the end of the cigarette as he leaned over her, falling onto her parted lips. He regarded her face for a moment before spitting on her cheek.

He turned on his heel and left the room, crushing the cigarette into the ashtray by the door. The man waiting in the hall straightened to attention when he appeared.

His instructions were brief but clear. Without looking back at his lover of six months, he headed down the stairs.

"Burn her."

* * *

Stephen looked up when the front door opened. He breathed a bit easier upon seeing Annette enter and made sure to meet Stu's eyes so his friend would know how he felt about her being carted around where anyone could see her. It wasn't the time to get into that, though, and his gaze returned to the item on the coffee table.

Stu set the bags down and approached, face an indecipherable mask. "When did it come?"

"Ted brought it about an hour ago," Stephen answered, nodding in the direction of the kitchen. "Stephanie wants it back as soon as Annette identifies it. It was found at the old place this mornin'."

"The house we were in last night?" Annette murmured.

Stephen nodded. "All we know is a woman dropped it off. There are no prints on the box, the note or the envelope, but we know who it's from."

Stu ran a hand over his face and leaned to pick up the small box. Stephen glanced to Annette when she perched on the edge of the sofa and saw her hands clasped, knuckles white. He thought of offering comfort in some form but refrained. He heard her gasp when Stu opened the box and pulled out the necklace.

What had once been fine gold was now the dull color of rust. The diamond pendant, which now resembled a ruby thanks to the blood, swung like a pendulum from Stu's fingers.

"What did the note say?" Stu asked, dropping the necklace back into the box.

He handed it over, not wanting to say the words aloud. "A threat."

"Of course." The Englishman read over the words before looking to Annette. "This is your necklace, then?"

"It was," she whispered, eyes still on the box in Stu's hand. "Marie..." She drew in a deep breath as one hand reached to rub her throat. "Marie loved it and I loaned it to her to wear to the party. She was wearing it."

"He says you have something that belongs to him. What does he mean by that?" Stu demanded.

"Perhaps he means the painting?" she suggested tentatively.

"What paintin'?" Stephen interjected.

"One I found in the museum. But I don't have it, it's still in the archive room in the basement. I've never even taken it out of the room."

"What's the paintin' of?"

"A man's face. It looks as though it was based off an ancient mosaic. Drew is tracking down a few leads, and I've started to research it as well. But—"

"But the fact remains that he thinks you have access to something he feels belongs to him," Stu interrupted.

"That's an awful lot of thinking and feeling," she sighed. "It's not as though I could just waltz into the museum and take it out. And I certainly can't deliver it to him." She took a deep breath and looked down. "What else does the note say?"

"Ten days," Stu whispered, setting the box on the coffee table. He handed the note over when Annette held out her hand. "He says you'll be his in ten days."

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! I am overwhelmed at the reception this story has gotten. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"You should probably get some sleep."

Annette looked up from the laptop screen. Surprise was evident in her eyes and she blinked, images and text obviously still in her vision as she focused on him. "That's hard to do when you know you're going to die soon."

Stu heaved a sigh and leaned against the door frame. He understood her determination. He would be hard-pressed to deny he admired her for it. But he knew she needed to rest. She had been going full-steam since reading the note included with the bloody necklace. It was approaching three in the morning and he doubted she had moved from her spot on the couch except to pick at dinner. From the room designated to the necessary computers came the sound of Stephen's voice, speaking to his closest cousin. "You're not going to die," he informed her. "At least take a break."

She rubbed her eyes before slowly closing the laptop's lid. He saw the struggle as she forced herself to push it away. "How can you be sure?" she whispered. "They're everywhere. And there's already been so much death already."

He wondered if she knew of the latest death yet. Probably not, he decided. She had been lost in cyberspace, researching the damned painting in hopes of coming across clues. Watching the way she rolled her shoulders he straightened and stepped further into the living room. "They're not here."

She shot him a wary look. _Yet_. It hung in the air between them even as she looked away. "They will be. Perhaps I should give up. At least if I die, the needless deaths stop."

Stu bristled. "So glad to know you're an expert on the man's dealings. Do you want to give up? Roll over and take it? Because I can put a stop to all this now and let them take you."

"I don't want to die in ten days, but there's no indication at the moment that it won't happen." She stood, a grimace crossing her face. Her hands moved to the small of her back. He desperately tried to keep from noticing the way her shirt stretched across her chest as her fingers kneaded her back but his gaze flickered there anyway.

"Your faith in our organization is astounding. Please, stop with the flattery," he scoffed. "When I told you I do my job well, I meant it."

"You also told me you lost one."

"And I suppose you took that to mean I'd lose you?" He shook his head in disbelief as Stephen entered from the computer room.

"It could happen. You can't save everyone. If you could, Marie wouldn't be dead," she shot back.

"We had no fucking idea he'd go after Marie. We only knew you were the target. This isn't a bloody movie, Annette. If Jericho gets you, you're done. We won't be rolling in, guns blazing, to save you at the last moment. What he has planned for you is probably ten times worse than what he did to Marie." Stu pointed to the door. "But if you want to martyr yourself, go right ahead. It'll save us all a lot of trouble."

For a brief moment he expected her to. He saw her look to the door. And when she turned and rushed up the stairs he was surprised at the relief he felt. Releasing the breath he'd been holding, he dragged a hand over his face.

"Yeh made a muck of that, didn't yeh?" Stephen asked when the slamming of a door echoed throughout the cottage.

"She started it." A childish retort to be sure but it was the best he could do at the moment.

"Ah'll take some tea up to her," his friend offered.

"No, I'll do it." The insistence in his tone surprised even him. Turning on his heel, he reentered the kitchen and put the kettle on. He was aware of Stephen's presence as he waited for the water to boil. "How's Colin?"

"Doin' good. The weddin's in three weeks." The Irishman leaned against the counter.

"You should be able to make it. You could have pulled out of this job to help with the preparations." Stu rubbed his chin, wrinkling his nose at the roughness of his facial hair. There had been no time to shave as yet. He was grateful he had a chance to shower.

"There's not much to do. He told the lads what to wear. We'll probably take him out for a few rounds the night before. Yeh still plannin' on comin'?"

"Of course. Have to offer my sympathy to the poor bastard." Stu cracked a smile when his friend chuckled.

"He's in love. It happens."

In the silence that followed his statement, Stu knew what the other man was thinking. He gave a shake of his head as the kettle began to whistle. "Not again for me, mate," he sighed, turning off the burner.

"Just because—"

"Drop it, Ste."

"It's dropped," Stephen promised, holding up his hands in surrender.

He knew what he longed to say. They'd had the conversation enough for him to go through it in his mind as he grabbed the two mugs and turned to leave the room. He muttered that Stephen should double-check the doors before turning in for the night then headed upstairs. An apology was in order, but whether he would get around to saying the words remained to be seen.

Easing the door open, he opened his mouth to announce his presence. She must have sensed him though, for she turned from the window. Upon seeing it was him she turned back, hands rubbing her upper arms. He realized she had changed as he entered the room. Nudging the door closed with his foot he recognized the shirt as one of his and wondered who had raided his bag to get it for her.

"I brought tea," he murmured as he crossed the room. She didn't reply, gaze firmly on the moonlit scenery. _Just tell her you're sorry and get out of here_, he thought. Reaching around her he placed the mug on the window ledge, his own gaze moving out the window.

Standing next to her, he took a sip of his tea. From the corner of his eye he saw her finally lift her own cup. She sipped, eyes closing briefly as her tongue swiped across her lips. He braced his left hand on the window frame, fighting the memory of how those lips had tasted.

How her body had felt, tucked close to his. Her hands on his chest.

He cleared his throat and took another sip of tea. "What I said..."

"Was true," she finished. "This isn't some sort of game, where if I die I can just restart and try again. And I don't want to give up, Stu."

"That's a relief. It wouldn't save us a lot of trouble if you did." Finally looking at her, he lifted one corner of his mouth into a semblance of a smile. "The paperwork would be horrific."

Annette stared at him for several beats then snorted on a laugh. "You're terrible," she muttered, raising her cup again. "And thank you for the tea."

"Least I could do after making an ass of myself." She made a soft humming noise and he cursed the sudden memory of her doing the same while at the market. During their last kiss. Which hadn't been necessary at the time, for he'd known that the man searching had moved on by then. It had been purely for his own enjoyment. "Annette—"

"Who was she?' she whispered.

When had she moved so close? Suddenly all he was aware of was her standing directly beside her. The closeness unnerved and comforted him at the same time. "I'm sorry?"

"The one you..." She gave a shrug, obviously not comfortable with saying the word. He tensed, recalling their words in the kitchen, and saw her bite her lip. "It's none of my business. I'm sorry."

The look in her eyes told him she was apologizing for more than potentially overstepping a line. He clenched his jaw, not liking the brief glimmer of pity. When she turned and stepped away he drew in a breath. The words tumbled out before he could think to stop them. "She ran. We were in the airport and had an argument because she wanted to stop and call her mother. I said things I shouldn't have and she..." He dropped his gaze to his empty cup when he felt her eyes on him. "We had men all over but he got her and slipped away."

"You don't—"

"It was my first big case. I thought I knew it all. I know now that I made mistakes leading up to that, mistakes that led to him knowing where she was."

"Stu," she whispered. Her hand rested on his arm. "You don't have to tell me this. It's really none of my business."

"I want you to know that I'm not going to make the same mistakes again. It's my duty to protect you, and I am. That is, we are," he corrected. Taking a deep breath to calm his frazzling nerves, he turned to face her. "You need to get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be another long day."

She nodded, handing over her empty cup. "Stu... Thank you."

"No problem. I'll..." He glanced down when his hand slid over hers then his gaze moved back up to her eyes. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Right."

_Fuck it all_, he thought, plunking the cups down on the window ledge. He needed one more taste. Just one to sear into his memory. And then he could go on as though nothing happened. Cupping his palms over her cheeks he toyed with a lock of silken hair that had fallen from her ponytail. When he lowered his head she leaned up to meet him. Their lips met and he wasn't sure if the sigh he heard was hers or his. The kiss was tentative at first, giving her every chance to pull away. When her hands gripped his wrists he began to draw back. But she followed, fingers skimming up his arms until she clutched his biceps. And he knew he was gone.

He breathed in her scent, swallowed the gasp that left her as his tongue swept between her lips. He tasted the tea she'd just consumed. Searching, he tilted his head, fingers sliding into her hair at the brief taste of citrus. He growled at the tautness of her locks and plucked at the band holding them in place. The whisper of her hair falling around his fingers was barely heard above her soft moan of approval. One hand dropped to the small of her back, pulling her closer. She held onto him, returning the intensity of the kiss. Breathless, he drew the kiss out into shorter ones, felt her shiver as his arm tightened around her.

"This can't happen," he whispered between kisses, even as he turned her so he could guide her to the bed. His fingers nudged the t-shirt up and the bare skin beneath seared his fingers. Catching her hips in his hands, he felt the heat flood his body as her fingers slid through his hair.

"I know," she breathed. A soft gasp caught in her throat as he lifted her.

He placed her across of the bed. A glimpse of blonde hair tumbling over the edge and he gave in to the gentle tugging on his arms. Moving over her, he placed another heated kiss to her lips before trailing his mouth to her throat. "I shouldn't..." Stu lost track of his statement when her hands slipped beneath his shirt.

"Just once," she whispered, feet sliding along his calves as their legs twined. "Let me feel alive just this once, before—"

He growled with contempt at her supposition. His lips covered hers again, this time harsher. A soft cry died in her throat and she arched beneath him. Delectable curves he hadn't realized she possessed upon first seeing her pressed against his body. Soft fingers stroked his shoulders before gliding down his back. And he gave in to the urges.

Annette gasped sharply as he drew her bottom lip between his. He alternately suckled and nibbled, sending tremors of awareness down her spine. She felt him settle more firmly between her thighs, covering her completely. His fingers stirred her body to life and she let her head fall back as his lips moved to her neck again. Facial hair scraped against her skin and she shivered, arching again.

_One night_, she thought when his hands caught her wrists. _One night of living_.

She didn't resist when he stretched her arms above her head. Aware of every inch of his body that touched hers, she licked her lips as his fingers tangled with hers. One hand trailed down her side. She sucked in a breath as the shirt she wore was pushed upwards, fingers stroking her skin. His name was a harsh whisper. Desperate to touch him, she pulled one hand free and let it fall to his waist.

Her legs tightened around his when he dipped his head, a strangled moan pulling from her chest at the feel of his lips on her torso. She curled her fingers in his shirt, finally lifting her head just as his tongue flickered over her skin. The motion caused her to tremble and when he sat up she followed. The shirt was peeled from her body and he seemed to be everywhere at once. Exploring, kissing, lighting her on fire.

Calloused palms cupped her breasts. Shaky fingers worked the buttons of his shirt. He shifted, pressing tighter against her, and his lips wrapped around one aching nipple as the evidence of his arousal slid over her. "Oh, God," she gasped as the final button popped open.

"Name's Stu," he murmured around her flesh. She felt his smirk as he guided her back down. He lifted his head slightly, thumb and forefinger replacing his lips. "Not God."

"Smartass," she hissed, reaching to tangle her fingers in his black hair. Pulling him down, she wriggled against him, an ache settling in the pit of her stomach as their lips met again.

"Hang on," he muttered, biting down on her lip as he leaned back.

Nearly breathless with arousal she stared up at him, tongue dancing across her lips. He shrugged out of his shirt, revealing chiseled muscles. Her gaze dropped when he reached down and she felt her heart skip a beat when he slipped the gun from the waistband of his jeans. She swallowed anxiously when he leaned to place it on the nightstand.

Reality threatened to crash through the haze of desire but he caught her up before it could. Expert fingers plucked at her panties before tugging them down. His hands slid along her legs, guiding them up so he could remove the undergarment fully. He caught one ankle in his large hand as the scrap of lace was tossed aside. And when his lips trailed up her leg she knew she was with a master.

His breath, hot on her thigh. The faint sound of a zipper being lowered. Springs squeaking beneath them as he kicked off his jeans. Fingers and lips branding her skin. It occurred to her, as his facial hair scraped her inner thigh, that she would never be able to look at him the same way again. But she didn't care.

His tongue trailed upwards, his hands pushed her thighs apart. Annette sucked in a breath and held it in anticipation, one hand clapping over her mouth to muffle her cries as his mouth neared the apex of her thighs.

The rapid beating sound she heard had to have been her heart. She was certain it was going to pound out of her chest. Brain fuzzy, she lifted her head when she felt him draw back. It was then she realized the sound she heard was rapid footsteps on the stairs.

Stu leaned over her, alert, tense. His eyes met hers in a silent apology and then he rolled away. When the door flew open he was on his feet, shielding her, buttoning his jeans. Mortified, Annette scrambled for her discarded clothing.

"Company's on its way," Drew announced. "About five miles out now."

"Moving or stationary?" Stu questioned.

She marveled at the calmness of his tone. She doubted she would be able to string two coherent words together. Wrenching on her shirt, she carefully sat up, eyes scanning the immediate area for her discarded panties.

"Stationary right now. They tripped the sensor on the tree. I already called for backup. Ste's on the roof."

"Fuck," Stu seethed. He turned, snatched up his shirt and pulled it on. "They won't get here in time. Get whatever you can into the truck."

Annette scrambled off the bed as Drew retreated. Heart pounding furiously, she rushed to pull on the jeans she had taken off earlier. Her bag, open but not unpacked, was picked up by Stu. She grabbed her messenger bag, shoving papers into it as she stepped into her shoes.

He caught her arm as she reached for the jacket. Shirt unbuttoned, eyes blazing, his lips covered hers in a harsh kiss. "We'll finish this later," he promised.

He kept a grip on her as he ushered her out of the room. Downstairs, he grabbed her laptop and shoved it into her hands. There was a mad dash as he, Drew and Stephen gathered what they could. She managed to step into her shoes just before Stephen tossed a jacket over her shoulders. She barely heard the orders barked between the men as she was hustled out the door and across the gravel drive.

Drew took the wheel, Stu next to him. Annette's eyes widened at the sight of guns on the floorboard in the backseat. Still clutching her laptop to her chest, she tucked her feet on the seat to avoid stepping on the weapons, bracing herself as the tires spit gravel.

"Sneaky bastards," Drew hollered. He turned the wheel, sending them into a sharp left turn. Brightness filled the SUV as headlights were turned on, then faded as Drew sped away.

Annette instinctively ducked as a bullet ricocheted off the side of the vehicle. Next to her, Stephen lowered the window. She could only stare as he reached out to fire back. The terrain was bumpy and she winced when the vehicle bounced.

"Through the woods," Stu ordered.

"There's three of 'em," Drew announced as lights hit the vehicle again. Annette saw him reach onto the dash, held her breath as his window was lowered too. He braced the gun against his left arm, somehow managing to stay on a straight course as he shot at the car approaching them from the left.

"They can't follow us."

A heavy clang. She managed to peek out the window in time to see the car veer off before rolling to a stop. Looking forward, she muffled a cry at the sight of trees growing closer.

"Floor it," Stephen shouted. The handgun was dropped onto the seat as he reached to the floorboard.

She had no idea what the weapon was called but could tell by looking at it that it would cause damage. She closed her eyes as it was handed over to Stu. Unable to watch, she ducked her head, squeezing her eyes shut as the SUV picked up speed. The acrid smell of gun smoke filled the interior and she held her breath, flinching each time the gun went off.

"Hold on," Drew called.

Annette felt a hand on her shoulder and curled closer to Stephen. The wind whipping through the SUV chilled her; each bump rattled her bones. A startled cry flew from her lips at the unexpected sound of water splashing. She heard the tires grinding, gunshots fainter as the water continued to splash.

She finally opened her eyes when Drew announced they were clear. Clutching Stephen's arm, she slowly pushed herself up as the SUV ground to a stop. "W-what—"

"A very conveniently placed stream," Stephen answered gently. The hand on her shoulder squeezed then fell away. "Yeh alright?"

She nodded. Unable to resist, she turned in the seat to look out the back window. Moonlight glittered on the water. Across the way she saw headlights retreating.

"I'm calling for the helicopter." This from Stu. "Head to the rendezvous point."

"How the fuck did they find us?" Drew asked as the SUV bounced along the trail through the woods.

Annette was about to turn around when the truck lurched to a stop. She didn't have to wonder why. She could only look on in horror as the fireball lit up the night sky. The rumble of the explosion came mere seconds later. A chilling reminder that there was someone that wanted her dead.

* * *

She was still amazed that they had not been detained after crossing over into Belgium. She hadn't thought much about their pull with different countries, assuming their work to be based mainly in France. Yet as they boarded the private jet that was to take them to Athens, she realized they truly were part of an international organization.

They landed just as the sun began to peek over the horizon. When she stepped outside she was startled to see a sleek car waiting on the tarmac. Pulling the jacket tighter around her she followed Stephen's gentle nudging and made her way down the steps. She had no chance to look at her surroundings. Quickly ushered into the waiting vehicle, she found herself rearing back at the sight of the man waiting inside.

"It's alright, Miss Jacobs. Please, sit," he invited. Yet another accent – this one Spanish.

"Mr. Del Rio?" she ventured as Stu slid into the backseat behind her. Sandwiched between the two men, she felt decidedly shabby next to the sharp-dressed man to her left.

"Correct. We will arrive at the villa in ten minutes, and then you will tell me what you've learned about this painting." He spoke in Spanish to the driver and the car moved forward. Annette looked to the front seat, expecting to see Drew and Stephen, but saw neither.

"They're coming along behind us," Stu murmured in her ear. His hand rested over hers and squeezed briefly before he pulled away.

Once again he was the cool, distanced man. The interlude in the cottage might never have happened, judging from his exterior. And though she knew she was outwardly calm as well, inside she was a mess. So many things were happening, and so quickly.

She only prayed she could keep up.

**A/N: As promised, Jojo! I think I kept within the 30 minutes... Though now you're probably ticked because it's not what you thought. Sorry!**

**Thank you everyone for the amazing reviews! I am having so much fun writing this. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Had she doubted Del Rio's stature and importance, being escorted from her room by one of the many guards scattered in and around the villa cemented the impression. The man's steps were unhurried as he led her along the hallway, giving her a chance to get a good look at the villa.

In her mind the building should be considered a mansion. It was only one story but it sprawled every which way and seemed to wend its way around the established trees on the estate. Large windows gave spectacular views no matter which way she looked. She glanced out one and gasped at the sight of the Parthenon.

The man at her side cleared his throat and she reluctantly continued on her way. She longed to appreciate the architecture of the building, to examine the artifacts and paintings scattered around. But it would have to wait. She hoped she would get a chance to at least peruse the man's collection.

She was led to a breezeway that connected the main rooms of the villa to an outdoor dining area. Ivy twined around the beams of the pergola, offering dappled shade. The aroma of flowers was prevalent. But her gaze was drawn to the Acropolis. The ancient structures stood above the old city, and even from the distance she could see people milling about. She longed to join them, to take in the history, to stand in a place that exuded antiquity. It was impossible, she knew, but she held onto a small hope that when this was all over she could return and take in the sites she had seen only in pictures.

"A lovely view, is it not?"

The man was right behind her. Surprised that she hadn't heard him approach, she turned to face him and smiled in agreement. "Yes, it is."

"My family has owned this spot for generations, Miss Jacobs." He was smiling and looked utterly relaxed in his casual clothing, but she sensed that he was anxious to get to work. "Your rooms are comfortable and to your liking?"

"They're perfect," Annette promised, though she had barely glanced around before falling into an exhausted sleep. Her dreams had been fraught with images of Stu over her, their bodies tangled, only to be ripped away by an unseen force. When she had awakened he had been forefront in her mind. Now, though, she pushed those thoughts away and focused on the task at hand. "How are you associated with Stu and Stephen?"

"We work together. I have been in the organization since I finished school. As was my father before me, and his father before him." He motioned to the rattan sofas set away from the dining table. "Would you like a drink or anything? Philip, water, please, and a little something to hold us until dinner."

It was then she saw the guard that had escorted her still hovering in the background. He disappeared inside and she took a seat, wishing Stu, Stephen or Drew would arrive. Over the past two days they had become her only constant and she found herself missing their presence. She clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking and looked up from her white knuckles at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Stuart," Del Rio greeted. "Drew and Stephen—"

"Video conference with Stephanie," Stu finished. "And for God's sake, mate, stop calling me Stuart."

Annette cracked a smile at hearing his full name. When he crossed and sat next to her she could smell his aftershave and was surprised at the amount of comfort it provided. She longed to reach out to him, to see if the connection they had made the night before was still there. It wasn't the proper time, though, and she struggled to keep her mind on the painting.

Stu's hand rested on her arm. She swiveled her head to look at him and felt her mouth go dry at the smoldering look in his eyes. Awareness prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Biting her lip, she looked away when Del Rio cleared his throat. It was safe to say the connection was still there, she decided when his hand slid away.

Philip returned with glasses of ice water, as well as a selection of finger foods. Stu leaned forward to imbibe, obviously ravenous with hunger. Though her stomach was still too twisted up to eat much she forced herself to select a few of the miniature sandwiches.

"The painting, Miss Jacobs. Tell me everything you know."

Annette swallowed a large gulp of the cold water before taking a deep breath. A bit more relaxed now that Stu was with her, she told Del Rio everything she had known about the painting before Drew had assisted her in further research. She saw his eyebrow raise with interest when she mentioned the mosaic aspect.

"You are certain, then, that this painting was of a mosaic?"

"Not one hundred percent certain, but I see no reason to believe otherwise."

"Have you and Drew learned anything more?"

"We managed to track down the name of the person who donated it to the museum. Rather, Drew did." She would never understand how the man was able to track down the tiniest detail and tie it to their search. "The name is in my notes, I'm afraid I can't remember it at the moment. A friend of Drew made contact..." Annette looked to Stu for assistance.

"Cody," he provided. "He contacted the donor. The woman said it had belonged to her father and after his death last year the family wanted it out of the house immediately. And that was all she would say." Stu wiped his fingers on a napkin and his face was pensive.

"There is something you're not telling me," Del Rio stated after a moment. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "What is it?"

"Her father was a member of _Sang Noir_."

"Levesque," Del Rio whispered.

Stu nodded, and Annette grew more and more confused. Setting her untouched food back on the low table, she watched a bead of condensation roll down the side of her glass. "What is this _Sang Noir_?"

"A very old group, Miss Jacobs."

"And who—"

"I'll explain more later," Stu interrupted, not looking at her as he spoke.

"I'll talk to Stephanie about making contact with Levesque's daughter. You know of his death last year." Del Rio stood, carrying his glass with him as he crossed to the low wall surrounding the dining area.

"Ste worked it. I don't know all the details, though. I know not a word of it appeared in the news. Not even an obituary in the local paper."

"They are very powerful. No doubt they are keeping an eye on the daughter. The last I heard she is a member in name only."

Annette rose when Stu did, fearing she would be left out of the conversation if she remained seated. Moving to stand near them, she listened in silence. She garnered more knowledge of the mysterious Levesque. His father's murder had been written off as a tragic accident, without the local authorities in Versailles ever being alerted as to the truth of his death. She listened in horrified fascination as Stu and Del Rio discussed bloodletting, beheading and post-mortem castration. They spoke as casually as though they were speaking of the weather.

Unable to bear the conversation any further, she cleared her throat. What was meant to be an announcement came out as a request. "I'm going to go see if Drew's learned anymore about the painting, if that's alright?"

"Of course. Philip will show you the way."

Again the silent guard. She was led through the breezeway and into the main building. Instead of turning the way they had come earlier, though, Philip turned to the left, leading her through the dining room and along a hallway. This time she was aware of security cameras tucked in inconspicuous places, following her every move. She was relieved upon turning into a room and seeing Stephen and Drew.

Stephen looked up, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as she entered. After she had taken the seat across from him at the conference table she noted the phone tucked against his ear. She had just reached for her laptop when he muttered a few words and tossed the phone down.

"Cody's on his way to help with figurin' out how they found us last night," he announced. "He said there might be a leak."

"A leak in the team?" Annette questioned in surprise.

"Yeh'd be surprised," he sighed. "It's happened before."

"Easy money," Drew added. "All ya have to do is let someone know what ya overheard. And forget the oath ya took when ya signed up."

Annette wondered how they could perform their jobs on a daily basis without growing to suspect everyone around them. She could tell by the look the two men shared that they had at one point suspected even their closest friends at some point. Looking at the whimsical background on the screen, she saw the reflection of Philip as he stepped out of the room. Once the door had closed she turned to face Stephen. "What is the _Sang Noir_?"

His eyebrows lifted drastically. "How'd yeh hear—"

"Stu and Del Rio brought it up. And someone named Levesque?" She bit her lip when a shadow crossed his face.

"Ya know what _Sang Noir _translates to, right?" Drew asked, leaning back in his chair. He reached for the Pepsi in front of him but didn't take a sip.

"Black blood," she answered. "Is it some sort of club?"

"Ah suppose yeh could say that." Stephen rubbed his chin. He leaned back as well, his gaze moving to the ceiling.

"Stu said that you worked a death last year. This Levesque, whose son donated the painting. Who was he?" She waited as Stephen hesitated. Leaning forward, she waited until he looked at her before speaking again. "Was he connected to this Jericho?"

"It's not a pretty story to tell, Annette," he sighed.

"My life hasn't been pretty these past few days," she reminded gently. "Please. If they were connected, I can piece together why he wants the painting so desperately."

"He can't get his hands on the painting now," Drew informed, pulling his chair closer to the table. "Stu made sure it was sent to a place no one would ever think to look for it."

She almost asked where, but refrained. The look she gave Stephen was imploring and she saw his shoulders round as he leaned forward to rest his arms on the table.

"Levesque was one of Jericho's closest friends. Their fathers were close, and because of the _Sang Noir_, the two were thrown together as children. When the older generation started dyin' off, Levesque became heir apparent to the highest honor in the group. From what we know there was a meetin' and Jericho received the honor, not Levesque." Stephen drummed his fingers against the table. "Yeh can understand that soured their friendship a bit. We don't know why but Jericho decided that his old friend had to be eliminated, and he saw to it himself."

"The death last year," Annette whispered. "Did he really... I heard something about beheading and..."

"Yeah. He went out for a few drinks after work and never came home. No one suspected a thing until a week went by. He was found by the owner of an empty building on the outskirts of Versailles. He had the building torn down after everything was cleared out."

"And you know it was Jericho?"

"We can't pin it on 'im for sure, because the bastard's sneaky, but yes. He's the one who raised the alarm that Levesque was missing. And he's the one who told the family to not call the authorities. And we've heard whispers from some _Sang Noir_ members that Jericho keeps a memento of his deed." Stephen met her eyes and she felt her blood run cold. "Ah'm sure yeh can guess."

"His head." Annette shivered. "But why? Why kill his best friend?" Her eyes widened. "His daughter – the painting? He did all that to Levesque to get the painting. Did Levesque paint? Or have any dealings with art?"

"We never thought to look into that," Drew muttered, pulling his laptop close.

"We didn't have a reason to," Stephen reminded him with a groan. "His family shut us out completely. When was the paintin' donated?"

"On the fourteenth of August, last year."

"Levesque was murdered on the fourth."

Stu's voice was unexpected and caused her to straighten. Turning slightly she saw him in the doorway. His gaze swept over her, reminding her of the gentle lapping of low-tide waves on the beach. How was she expected to keep her composure around him? She crossed one leg over the other and took a deep breath, forcing her mind to focus on the possible link between herself and Jericho. _Nine days_, she reminded herself.

"So he was killed on the fourth, and no one noticed he was missing for an entire week?" she asked. Her voice was tentative and she was well aware she may be overstepping her bounds. After all, they were experienced in this sort of thing. The greatest mysteries in her life until she had met them had not been life or death.

"He was known to disappear at random times. His business practically ran itself." Stu crossed the room to lean against the table.

Too close, she thought as his scent invaded her senses. As inconspicuously as possible she scooted her chair to the side. "One week later, on the eleventh, his remains were discovered, after Jericho informed his family that it had been a week since anyone had last seen or heard from him."

"Yes."

"Three days later, a painting was donated by his daughter to the museum. The daughter has since said only that her family wanted the painting gone immediately. Now, if Drew finds out—"

"Amateur artist, dabbled in oils and watercolors," Drew blurted. "He was an infrequent member of a local artists' society. Memorial page dedicated to him on their website."

Annette leaned to see the page in question, eyes scanning the text. The grammar was a bit choppy due to the effects of Google Translate, but she understood. "Most of his work was of biblical events and figures. Due to his travels in the Holy Land, he was able to capture firsthand the essence of the New Testament."

"Bloody hell, he's the artist?"

"It's possible he found the mosaic in a temple or museum in Israel," Annette murmured. "What I don't understand is why Jericho has waited until now to get his hands on the painting."

"Really? I don't get why he wants it so damned bad. It's not the happiest painting." Drew handed his laptop over to Stu so he could see the page.

"Well, that too. But if he wants it so desperately, why didn't he just go to his family and get it? If my father died and his best friend came to request something, like a painting, that belonged to him, I would gladly give it to him. Without asking questions."

A phone chirped with an incoming message and Stephen picked his up. Annette barely paid attention, already used to their receiving messages at random times throughout the day. But when he muttered a curse she looked up.

"Levesque's daughter was just found dead. In Paris." He looked to Stu when another chirp filled the air. "She went to the museum this mornin'. She wanted the paintin' back."

"How did she—" Annette couldn't say the word, despite having heard it innumerable times over the past three days. The momentary high from figuring out one part of the mystery was now long gone.

"Apparent suicide," Stu answered, pocketing his phone. "Single gunshot to the head in her hotel room. Del Rio's leaving in an hour to look into it."

"I'll see what I can dig up in the usual places," Drew announced. He opened his Pepsi and took a large gulp.

"Ah'll go talk to Del Rio about what we just learned."

Annette looked to her laptop screen, at a loss as to what to do. She could while away some time looking into Holy Land mosaics to see if any matched the painting. So decided, she reached to pull the computer closer to begin her search.

"Have you eaten?" Stu asked, reaching around her to close the lid. Before she could answer, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

"I had a few bites outside," she answered, not protesting when he led her out of the room.

"That wasn't enough to keep a newborn kitten alive," he scoffed. "Come on."

She knew better than to argue. The warmth of his hand swept up her arm, removing some of the chill that had settled earlier. Without a word, he guided her into the empty kitchen. She had a brief glimpse of gleaming copper pots above the stove and a smooth butcher block island before he turned. The move was so sudden she barely had a chance to stop in her tracks. His lips covered hers immediately. He released her hand, arm snaking around her waist to draw her closer.

Definitely still there, she decided as her lips parted for his insistent tongue. Keenly sensitive to every place their bodies touched, she gave in to temptation. She leaned up, intent on returning the kiss. The hand in her hair slid away and she felt her knees grow weak when his palm cupped her backside. With seemingly no effort he lifted her up, breath hot against her cheek as he placed her on the counter.

Stu pulled his lips from hers, one hand rising to cup her cheek. "I wanted to join you in your room," he whispered, thumb sliding across her mouth. "If you hadn't needed the rest—"

"I wish you had," she said, surprising herself.

"Trust me, you won't be getting into that bed alone again." The words, spoken in a low rumble as his lips covered hers again, caused her to tremble. Then, as suddenly as he had rendered her incapable of coherent thought, he pulled away. "Now, let's find something to eat, shall we?"

* * *

"Got something!"

Stephen looked up from his dinner at the sudden sound of Cody's voice. The younger man had arrived at the villa a mere two hours after announcing that he would be joining the group in Athens and in the eight hours since he hadn't been seen. Holed up in the conference room with Drew, he had been immersed in searching down the tiniest of details that would connect the dots of their latest mystery.

"What?" Stephen asked, wiping his mouth. Across from him, Annette sat up straighter, obviously just as eager as he to learn what Cody had found.

Cody dropped into the chair at the head of the table. His laptop landed on the table with a slight thunk. He pushed the thick, black-rimmed glasses up to the bridge of his nose and leaned forward, eyes on the bright screen. "Adah Ziller." He glanced up to see if the name struck a cord with either of them. Seeing that it didn't, he turned his attention back to the screen. "She has a few aliases, you can look through them later. Vice President of Med-Coast Oil." He paused. "She's twenty-seven."

"That's awfully young," Stephen said dinner forgotten.

"She started working for them at the age of seventeen, and has apparently worked her way up to the top. In some way or another."

Annette cleared her throat. "Not to bring feminism into this or anything, but are you insinuating she slept her way to the top?"

"She was born in Syria, daughter of a fairly well-to-do local merchant. At sixteen she was sent to England for school. But instead of returning home to marry the son of her father's best friend as arranged she ran off to America." Cody looked to Annette. "Article in the _New York Times_, when she was in the city for Med-Coast Oil relations. Anyway, the picture with the article is what led me to her. It came up on the tenth Google page when I searched for Jericho."

Stephen looked at the picture on the screen when Cody turned the laptop so they could see. The young woman was unrecognizable to him, but the man at her side wasn't. They were dressed elegantly. The caption beneath mentioned a banquet they were leaving. "So she dated Jericho?"

"Still does, off and on. Pictures of them are here and there in society column stretching back over the past ten years."

"Since she was seventeen," Annette clarified. "How old is Jericho?"

"Old enough to know better," Cody muttered. "She lives in Versailles. With the remaining Levesque heir."

"You're saying she knows what's going on?" Annette asked. "Are you stretching this a bit?"

"I tapped into a few databases and found out she flies to Jerusalem every spring."

"We don't have time for yer slow reveal." Stephen lighty tapped the table. "What's so important about her flyin' to Jerusalem?"

"Her arrivals are always on the same date. Her departures are always on the same date. There's only three days between, which coincide with the 'ten days' thing." Cody looked from Annette to Stephen expectantly.

"It's nine days now," she said.

Stephen looked up in surprise when her chair scraped across the floor. "What?" he asked, seeing the determined expression on her face. "Annette?"

"She knows. Someone needs to go see what she knows and if she has a way to put an end to this—" Annette broke off and gestured with one hand.

"Even if she did, yeh think she'd tell us? And why do I get the idea that yeh want to be the one to go see her?"

"Because I do." Annette pushed her chair back into place and grabbed her near-empty plate. The cuttlefish that Del Rio's Greek cook had prepared for them obviously forgotten now, she carried the plate into the kitchen. When she came out, her face was even more determinedly set. "I want you to take me, Stephen."

"Me?" He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "And risk Stu shovin' his fist in my face? Not likely, lass. Besides, how do yeh know she'd talk to yeh?"

"Please, Stephen. I'd ask Stu, but I know he'd say no. I'm so tired of just sitting around letting you two do all the work. She's a woman, she can't be completely heartless."

"Ah'm not doin' it without talkin' to Stu first. If somethin' happened to yeh... He'd never forgive me." _Or himself_, he added silently as he got to his feet. "Ah'm not makin' any promises, Annette."

The smile she gave him told him he would soon be on his way to Versailles.

**A/N: A special thank you to Nikki, Blackhat, Jojo, Amber (what is with you and Nikki changing your names on me?) charmedbyortonbarrett, Lissa003, T, Malabrigo, and ThatGirl54 for the wonderful reviews. Your kind words inspire me so much! And an extra thank you to Nikki, Amber, Jojo, and Dana for their unfailing support. I really wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for you wonderful ladies! I hope you enjoy this little update.**

**Descriptions of Athens come from late-night Googling because alas, I've never been. Del Rio's villa was modeled after one I found on an Italian rentals site. Steamy kiss was inserted to please the Stu & Annette lovers out there. From what I understand, cuttlefish is a springtime dish in Greece and the recipes I found sounded scrumptious.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"It's not suicide." Del Rio's voice was filled with rage. "_El hijo de puta_!"

Stu tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, rifling through the contents of his overnight bag. "Ste said it was a gunshot to the head—"

"That was the initial report, yes. Our source did not know at the time that she was also stabbed in the chest."

Search forgotten, he pushed his bag aside and ran a hand over his face. "I'm guessing no leads?"

"Not even so much as a fingerprint. The hotel room has been wiped clean." Del Rio muttered a few curses. "The security cameras in the lobby was being replaced this afternoon so there is no footage of her coming back from the museum. There is no sign of forced entry so either the killer came back with her or she let him in. Her key is on the dresser with her purse. Nothing is disturbed aside from her clothing."

"Rape?" Stu guessed.

"Looks that way. I am on my way to talk to the medical examiner now. He should be finished with the autopsy. How is everything there?"

"Quiet." He glanced up when there was a knock at the door. It opened slightly and Stephen peeked in. Waving his friend inside, he heaved a sigh. "Let me know the autopsy results."

"If you need anything, ask Philip."

Stu thought of the burly head of security. The man was built like a tank and was one of the few people Stu didn't dare to cross. "Right," he answered before ending the call. He tossed his phone onto the bed and looked to Stephen.

"Cody found a woman with a link to Jericho."

He listened as Stephen explained what Cody had learned. He knew by the way his friend refused to meet his eyes that he was holding something back. Nodding as he stored away the information for later consideration, he quirked one eyebrow. "What else?"

"Ah..." Stephen rubbed the back of his head. "She wants to go see this Ziller woman."

He blinked in surprise at the statement. The fact that she had the gall to suggest visiting this powerful woman with even more powerful connections made him realize she wasn't quite the meek little lady she appeared to be. But the thought of her knocking on Adah Ziller's door, demanding answers, caused him to laugh. "Right, mate. And afterward we'll take her to Jericho's office so she can have it out with him."

"She's serious. Says she's tired of sittin' 'round lettin' us do all the work."

"Did you remind her that our doing all the work is our fucking job?" Stu shook his head. "You can tell her I'd tie her to the bed before I let her walk into that. There's no telling how volatile this woman is."

"Ah know that. But yeh know as well as ah do she won't like it."

Yes, he knew. He fully expected her to hunt him down and curse him for not letting her have her way. "I'll talk to her."

"Stu—"

"She's not going to traipse across Europe with a bloody target on her back. Where is she now?"

"Kitchen. Cody's with her."

Stu nodded, heading for the door. He hesitated, though, and turned to Stephen. "Whatever it is you want to say, spill it."

Shoulders rising and falling with a sigh, Stephen met his eyes. "Yeh know she's not Leigh. Don't," he said when Stu opened his mouth to retort. "Annette doesn't want to do this to piss yeh off. She wants to help. Keep that in mind when yeh barge in there to yell at her."

"I'm not going to yell—"

"Yeh already are. And yeh gonna scare her," Stephen informed. "Don't do it."

"I am not going to scare her," Stu ground out. "And for the record, I'm very aware that she's not...Leigh." For the first time in ages it didn't hurt to say her name. "You'd do well to remember that she's under our protection, not one of us. Or do you want to drag her out where God knows who can see her?"

"Ah don't want her to get pissed and go out on her own." Stephen pushed his hands into his pockets. "And yeh were sure protectin' her last night."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Stu muttered, throwing up a hand. He had no idea how Stephen knew. Drew had probably blabbed at some point. "Going to blame all that on me?"

"No. But are you sure it's wise?"

"I'm not going to stand here and listen to you chastise me." He tilted his head slightly. "Or is it jealousy?"

Stephen bristled only slightly but Stu caught it. "Ah just don't want to see yeh hurt. And ah don't want to see Annette hurt, either."

"Right." Stu nodded. "I'm going to talk some sense into her."

He caught sight of Stephen's shrug when he turned to leave the room. His shoes were loud on the polished hardwood flooring, his footsteps echoed by Stephen's. He followed the sound of her laughter to the kitchen. She was perched on the counter, clutching her stomach. Cody leaned against the opposite counter, grinning as he watched her reaction to whatever joke he had told her.

When she saw him her laughter abruptly ceased. She composed herself immediately, straightening her shoulders. Seeming to know he wasn't wanted, Cody pushed away from the counter, muttering that he would be working with Drew if they needed him.

Stu turned to face Annette once they were alone. He was fully aware that Stephen lingered in the doorway, obviously prepared to come to her aid if he ended up frightening her. "You," he began, pointing at her. A dark blonde eyebrow rose in question, but she didn't speak. "You're not setting foot out of this building unless you're being taken to another location by us. And by 'us' I mean myself, Ste, and Drew. You're not going to sweet-talk Ste into taking you on a mad dash to validate your wild ideas."

She was so tense he could see the muscle in her jaw twitch. She swallowed when he stepped closer and he watched her neck curve as she tilted her head back to look up at him. The memory of soft skin beneath his lips brought his earlier promise to the forefront of his mind. Still aware of Stephen's presence, he steeled himself. _Soon_, he promised himself, looking into her eyes.

"This woman you want to go see is no doubt dangerous. I don't care what you think." He held up his finger when her lips parted. She pursed her lips together and he saw the irritation as she waited for him to continue. The fact that she has dealings with Jericho should be more than enough for you to want to stay far away from her."

Annette waited a few seconds after he had finished. "Am I allowed to speak now?""

He bit back a curse of annoyance at the obsequiousness in her voice. Folding his arms over his chest, he gave a curt nod.

"I don't doubt that she's dangerous. But she's a woman. Even the most sadistic of women have a soft side. If I could—"

"You're not."

"If I could talk to her, I'm sure I could find some common ground. Perhaps I could at least find out why Jericho wants me and what he has planned for me—"

"Would it make you sleep better at night? Knowing what he wants to do to you?" Stu asked. Her eyes flashed and he suddenly knew that no matter what he said she would be making the trip to Versailles. He was tempted to tie her down as he'd told Stephen he would, but he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Your friend Marie was just a hint of what he wants to do to you. Right now it doesn't matter why he wants you. All you should be concerned with is making sure he doesn't get you."

"Stu, ya might wanna take a look at what we just found," Drew announced as he entered the kitchen. He gave Annette a quick nod as he brushed past to reach into the refrigerator. Bottles inside rattled as he yanked the door open and when he turned around he held a fresh Pepsi. "Jericho's land holdings in Israel."

"Be right there." Stu looked to Annette as Drew left. "I want you to go to your room and go to bed." He waited for her to remind him she wasn't a child, but she merely gave a jerky nod. Stepping closer, he braced his hands on either side of her. "I'm trusting you won't get any wild and crazy ideas about leaving in the middle of the night."

Without waiting for her answer he turned to leave the room. He made sure to meet Stephen's gaze, silently telling the man to keep her out of trouble.

He was used to having his orders followed. The smallest slip-up could result in catastrophe. But even as he lifted his chin, telling himself she would stay put, he knew deep down that she would leave.

* * *

Annette looked up from her backpack at the soft tap on her door. Despite being expected the sound started her, and she took a deep breath. Releasing it slowly, she crossed to the door and opened it, relaxing a little upon seeing Stephen in the hall.

"Ready?" he whispered as he entered the room. His large frame seemed to fill the space and she eased the door to, leaving it slightly ajar so they could hear if someone approached.

"Almost." She kept her voice low as she stuffed her laptop and a few other things she may need into her backpack. She had the dreaded sensation of forgetting something, but could think of nothing else. "Did you—"

"If we're there in thirty minutes we have a flight." He picked up the bag as soon as it was zipped closed. "Ah don't have to tell yeh—"

"You don't like this. I know." Still speaking in a hushed tone, she briefly touched his arm.

He nodded to the door leading onto a small patio that overlooked the pool. "Go out and to yeh left. There's a low wall to cross, then we stay against the fence along the driveway. When we get to the gate we have ten seconds to get the code punched in before the alarm sounds. There's a car waitin' for us just down the road."

She nodded, growing anxious at the thought of having to make a run for it. Though she considered herself in shape, she had been lax in working out since moving to Paris. Indulging in decadent meals and pastries hadn't helped, either. She supposed her late-night dash through empty streets the other night counted, though she had been running for her life at that time. Tonight she was just running away. But she could do it. She had to. "Where's—"

"With Cody and Drew." He crossed to the door and eased it open, peering out into the lawn. "The guard's on the other end now, let's go."

She glanced around the room, still certain she was forgetting something important. Unable to think of what it could possibly be, though, she followed Stephen outside. The sky was overcast, adding to the darkness of the estate, and she kept close as he moved along the edge of the building. Squinting, she could barely see the wall he'd spoken of. It appeared to be close to four feet tall and she wondered how he could consider that low.

He reached back to still her when they reached the corner. At the unexpected sound of a dog barking she grasped his hand to keep from making a sound. Cool fingers gave a gentle squeeze, and he turned to look at her.

"Ah'll give yeh a boost," he whispered. He guided her in front of him and she held her breath as she placed her hands on the rough stone. His hands landed on her waist and she winced at the scraping of stone against her palms. When she was seated atop the wall he handed her the backpack.

She hopped down, clutching the pack for stability as she landed on lush grass. Another dog began to bark and she froze, half-expecting a snarling guard dog to charge towards her. Stephen landed next to her. She marveled at his ability to keep moving. Sneakers sliding on the grass, she struggled to keep up with him, gasping as the area was bathed in bright light.

"Fuck." He caught her arm, dragging her close to the high fence that was hidden behind the trees bordering the driveway. When they were shielded by low-hanging branches, he took the pack.

"I forgot to close the door," she whispered. Biting down on her bottom lip, she thought of going back. Then, suddenly, the images of a dead Marie flashed in her mind and she knew she had to go. It was the slimmest of possibilities but she held onto it, certain that Adah Ziller would tell her something. And she knew that Stephen would protect her. Ignoring the dread of being caught before she could flee, she continued along the fence. The driveway hadn't seemed so long when she'd traversed it in Del Rio's car earlier. Why did it seem to go on for miles now?

When she lurched to a stop, Stephen nearly bowled her over. He steadied himself, though, one hand on her arm to keep her from stumbling. "What?"

"The gate's already open." She glanced up when he moved to stand next to her.

"Let's go."

She glanced back for an instant and saw that every light within the villa was now on. Floodlights illuminated the lawn. So close, she thought, looking back to the gate. Gathering all her courage together she surged ahead. He stayed at her side, hand still on her arm. Guiding her to the left as they passed through, he tugged on her arm.

He punched buttons on the keypad built into the pillar supporting one side of the gate. A long beep emitted from the small speaker and behind them, the gate began to close.

As they started to run she heard the approaching car. Tires squealed against the paved driveway. It took every ounce of her strength to not look back. The street sloped downward and she was grateful for the assistance.

When they reached the corner she saw the small car waiting. Stephen opened the rear door and motioned for her to climb in. She did so, breathless, and slid along the seat as the engine started. The door slammed closed as he slid in behind her.

"Ready?" The man behind the wheel glanced back at them before the car peeled away from the curb. "How's it going?"

Stephen nodded, sliding the backpack to the floor. "Doin' good."

"Making another quick getaway?"

"Yeh know me too well, Bryan."

"On your own tonight, I see. Where's Stu?"

"Probably plotting me death right about now."

Annette listened to their exchange, presuming they were old acquaintances. Their chatter continued and she took the opportunity to calm her racing heartbeat. As she began to relax something occurred to her and she turned to Stephen. "How are we going to..."

Stephen patted her arm when she hesitated. "Don't worry about Bryan. He's an old friend. Bryan, this is Annette."

"Nice to meet you," the driver said.

"Likewise." She turned her attention back to Stephen. The interior of the car was dim, but the passing street lights assisted her in seeing him. "Is he another member of your organization?"

"Not quite. But he's helped us before. Ah'd trust him with my life."

If he trusted him, there was no reason why she shouldn't. "Okay. How are we going to get out of Greece and into France? My passport is still in my apartment in Paris."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Bryan said as he maneuvered the car in and out of traffic. "Stephen can get the meat out of a sausage without breaking the skin."

"Yeh didn't have trouble gettin' into Greece this mornin'," Stephen reminded gently. "We'll be fine."

"Are we going to the airport?"

"No. There's a man that lives just outside the city that has a small private plane. He also has a large field that he uses to take off when needed. He's takin' us to Versailles."

"Another old friend?" she guessed.

He chuckled. It was a warm and comforting sound. His hand found hers and gave a gentle squeeze. "He owes me a favor or two, but ah guess yeh could call him a friend."

"You have a lot of old friends that help you out when you need it." Starting to relax again, she leaned back against the seat and looked out the window. "When this is all over with, will you tell me how you made friends in nearly every country in Europe?"

"Ah will." He sighed as his phone began to ring. It was a shrill sound, cutting through the calm of the car's interior. When he pulled it out and looked at the screen, he shook his head. With another sigh he silenced the call before tucking it back into his pocket. "If Stu doesn't fuckin' kill me first."

* * *

Upon seeing Adah Ziller's neighborhood, Annette decided the woman lived beneath her means. The cookie cutter houses of the subdivision didn't scream 'wealthy oil executive' to her. Even though it was dark, she got a sense that it was quiet, most likely had little crime, and the neighbors weren't the type to pop in at the wrong time.

Rain lashed at the windshield of Stephen's car, which was parked two houses down from the one belonging to Ziller. Annette caught sight of an overturned bicycle in the lawn across the street and knew the woman they were looking for had chosen the neighborhood because it was unassuming. She could smile and wave to the people who lived next door but probably felt safe in the knowledge that they wouldn't intrude.

"Yeh want to go and come back in the mornin'?" Stephen asked, breaking the silence.

The houses around them were all dark, but for Ziller's. One window on the second floor was lit, and one on the ground floor. The light on the front stoop was also on. She shook her head. "She's obviously awake. We can at least try, cant we?"

"Yeh know what yeh gonna say?" He cut off the engine, the song playing softly on the radio abruptly ending. The heavy rain began to lessen.

She hadn't the faintest idea what she would say to the woman. Opening her mouth to ask for a suggestion, she instead leaned forward when the front door of Ziller's house opened. The figure walking out was illuminated briefly before the man leaned back inside. An instant later the stoop was cast in darkness. "The man from the market."

"Yeh know him?"

"No, but I've seen him before. He was at the market the day I went with Stu. We hid... Behind a display of chocolates." She saw no reason to tell Stephen of how Stu had truly hid her presence.

The glow of the street light gave her another view of the man as he hurried down the walk to the car waiting at the curb. He hunched his shoulders in the rain. She was momentarily blinded when the headlights came on, then felt Stephen's hand on her shoulder, pushing her down in her seat. He leaned over her, apologizing for his roughness, and she held her breath as the lights grew brighter before fading as the car slowly passed them.

She shifted beneath Stephen, hoping to get a better view out the window, and stilled when she turned to find his face near hers. He pulled away, hand sliding from her shoulder, and she sat up. Her gaze moved out the windshield. She chewed on her bottom lip, waiting. The rain slowed to a light drizzle, and she reached to pull up the zipper of her jacket. "You're coming with me, right?"

He nodded, not speaking as he climbed out and gently shut his door. She did the same, tucking the hood over her head as she rounded the front of the car. The air was cooler than it had been when they'd climbed into the car at the airport, and she wished she'd packed a heavier jacket. Stephen's hand caught hers as they moved down the sidewalk, fingers twining with hers so naturally she didn't notice until he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

As they approached the house she slowed her steps. She couldn't shake the unsettled feeling. "Something's wrong," she said, voice barely above a whisper. Stephen stopped, turning to look at her. The cap on his head concealed his stark red hair. She knew that beneath the thick sweatshirt a gun was tucked into the waistband of his jeans. She also knew that strapped to his left ankle was his backup weapon. "You live alone and you work a day job with a long commute. A visitor drops by – for whatever reason – late at night, perhaps when you're just finishing up your supper dishes or getting a last glass of wine before going to bed."

His head tilted back in a nod of understanding. "And yeh know that after they leave yer gonna go upstairs."

"You turn out the kitchen light before going up, don't you? And... She didn't see him to the door. He reached back to turn off the outdoor light."

Stephen muttered a series of curses. The hand not holding hers slid down his face. "Get back in the car."

She shook her head. "I'm not letting you go in there alone."

"Ah knew this was a bad idea. Yeh aren't armed, yeh might be walkin' into—"

"I know you won't let anyone hurt me, Stephen. Please, let's go inside."

He muttered a few more curses, but began walking towards the house. As they moved up the walk he listed a series of instructions that she was to follow. Stay close to him. Don't go into a room alone. If anything happened, run. She balked at the idea of leaving him behind, but he insisted she get away if trouble arose. When she nodded he gave her hand another squeeze and led her up the three steps onto the stoop. Shielded from the drizzle, she pushed back her hood and shook the raindrops from her jacket.

The knob turned easily under his grasp, and she followed the guidance of his hand to stand behind him as he eased the door open. Annette had to focus on breathing as they stepped into the foyer, each step seeming to echo. She saw the alarm system panel on the wall next to the door. A lone red light was steady and she squinted in the dimness, surprised to see the alarms were unarmed.

Stephen held a finger to his lips as they ventured further inside. Her arm bumped against the open door. She winced as the force caused it to slam, the sound echoing throughout the house like a gunshot. Wanting to apologize, she kept silent, hand clapped over her mouth as she and Stephen stood, frozen, in the middle of the foyer.

She waited for the mysterious Ziller to appear, demanding to know who they were and why they were in her home. She expected a gun to appear, aimed at her head. But the seconds crept into minutes and not another sound came from anywhere within. Lowering her hand, she looked up at Stephen. It was possible the woman was hiding, lying in wait. He seemed to think the same and motioned for her to stay behind him.

Each of the rooms downstairs were void of human presence. The kitchen, its overhead lights bright, the bright yellow and white décor cheerful, showed evidence of a recent meal. An empty wine glass sat on the counter, its rim marred by a crimson lipstick print. Next to it, a gleaming pistol. Stephen picked it up using a nearby napkin, tucking the linen around the grip before slipping it into his pocket.

"Upstairs," he whispered.

She followed, each step causing her heartbeat to increase. Again each room was checked. Again, each room was empty. She followed his direction and waited in the spare bedroom, hugging herself in the chill of the air conditioned room. She strained to hear even the slightest sound, but the house was completely silent.

A scream lodged in her throat when the door swung open. Relief bubbled up, turning the scream into a gurgle as Stephen stood in the doorway. Silhouetted against the hall light, he reached inside and turned on the overhead light.

"Yeh can't talk to her," he said softly. He clenched one fist, slamming it into the door.

"She's dead?" Annette whispered.

"Only just." He reached into his pocket, withdrawing his phone. It had been silenced since their arrival in Versailles, and he frowned at the screen before tapping it a few times. Holding it to his ear, he met her eyes and shook her head. "Ah'm not lettin' yeh see," he whispered. Then, straightening, he turned his back to her, speaking into the phone. "Cut the lecture, fella. She's alright. We're in Versailles." Annette saw his shoulders slump in defeat. "Ah need yeh here. Adah Ziller's been murdered."

Sinking onto the edge of the guest bed, Annette continued to hug herself, Stephen's words barely registering. She gazed at the framed artwork on the wall, bile rising in her throat at the gruesome depiction of Christ's crucifixion. As she stared, Marie's face rose in her mind, the brief glimpse of pure terror she had seen in the photograph on Drew's computer. Closing her eyes tightly, she forced the image away.

She jumped slightly when she felt the mattress dip, opening her eyes. Staring at Stephen's shoes, she released a strangled gasp.

"Annette—"

"Blood," she blurted, following the footprints to the door. She caught sight of a crimson stain on the cream carpeting and looked away. "You walked in her blood."

"Ah had to check her," he whispered, hand closing over hers. It was then she realized she was trembling. "Ah knew she couldn't be alive, but ah had to check. Ah'll clean it up."

"How many?" she asked, keeping her eyes closed. "How many people are going to die before this is all over?"

"Ah don't know."

"Do you think I'll be one of them?" She couldn't help the question. It weighed heavily on her mind almost every moment of the day.

"No, yeh won't." His voice was gentle, but his tone was firm. He reached up, catching her chin. "Look at me, Annette."

She opened her eyes. He'd removed his cap, but what took most of her attention was the look in his eyes. "I don't want to die, Stephen. But—"

"No buts. Ah'm not gonna to let yeh die. We're not," he corrected. His thumb lightly brushed her cheek, then he was pulling her to him. He seemed to know instinctively that she was about to cry.

Face pressed to his shoulder, she let the tears fall. Torn between assurance that she would live through this miss and the fear that his promise would be broken, she leaned on him, needing as much of his strength as he could provide.

**A/N: A hearty thank you to Dana, Nikki (and you changed it AGAIN I can't keep up with you woman!), charmedbyortonbarrett, ThatGirl54, Blackhat, Jojo, and Amber for the wonderful reviews! I continue to be amazed at the awesome response to my writings. You guys are the best.**

**It's too late and I'm too tired for a long note. Hope you've enjoyed the chapter. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

When Annette had calmed, Stephen continued to hold her, keeping his right hand free in case he needed to reach for his gun. The house remained eerily silent as they waited. He knew he should get her out of there and take her away, to a place where a dead body wasn't lying in the next room. But he couldn't leave Ziller's home and run the risk of someone coming in and wiping away what little evidence there was.

Her killer had known they would see the room. Whether the man had kept he, Stu, or Drew in mind as he had performed the carnage, it was apparent the man had known one of them would see.

_Her blood will spill next_. The words, written in blood on Adah Ziller's mirror, had rocked him to the core. The word 'her' had been underscored with a slash of blood, leaving no doubt in Stephen's mind as to whom it referred to. One of the many reasons he wanted to make sure Annette did not see inside the room.

As though the blood coating the sheets, dripping onto the floor, and splashed across the walls and ceiling weren't enough. The thick iron spike through her chest, the macabre positioning of her nude body, and the cigarette burns along her torso would haunt him forever. So would the gaping holes where her eyes had once been.

He had seen many vile murder scenes over the years, but this had to be the worst. It spoke of an unbridled rage and he was fully aware who had done the killing. The man they had seen slip out had no doubt been left behind to assure she was dead. Phil Brooks was one of Jericho's closest associates, but Stephen knew he wouldn't be trusted with such an important job.

And he didn't dare think what the man would do to Annette if he ever got his hands on her.

"Stephen."

Loosening his grip, which had tightened considerably over the past few moments, he didn't object when she pulled away. "Sorry. Yeh alright?"

She nodded, dashing away the last of her tears with the cuff of her sleeve. "Is Stu very mad?"

"He's fuckin' livid." She winced and he regretted the choice of words. "To be fair, yeh—"

"Disobeyed a direct order, sneaked out in the middle of the night, and dragged his best friend along with me. I put both of us in direct danger and deserve every awful thing he'll say to me when he gets here."

_Impeccable timing,_ he thought as his phone beeped with an incoming message. Reading the words, he sighed. "Del Rio's on his way. Stu should be here in about half an hour." He had barely spoken when she was on her feet, heading for the door. She made sure to avoid stepping in the blood he had tracked across the floor. "Where yeh goin'?"

"I haven't forgotten why I came here. She knows something, and if you're a powerful, busy woman, aren't you going to keep a diary?"

He got to his feet and hurried to catch up with her. "Yeh not goin' in there."

"Her bedroom is too predictable. If there is one in there, it's probably a decoy. She has...had secrets." Annette pushed her hair behind her shoulders and turned in the direction of the stairs. "When a woman doesn't want something found, she hides it where no one would think to look for it."

"And that would be?" he asked, following her downstairs.

"Her office, perhaps. Or the kitchen. Somewhere innocuous." Once in the foyer, she moved towards the office, a room just off the living room. Its walls were lined with wooden filing cabinets. Seemingly random knickknacks were placed here and there atop the cabinets. Annette ran her fingers along the edge of the mahogany desk that dominated the space. "Didn't Cody say she lived with someone?"

Levesque's son. He'd forgotten all about the man in the excitement. Pulling out his phone, he sent a message to Del Rio. He knew the Spaniard was incensed that he had brought Annette to Versailles, but ignored that fact as he suggested they look for Ziller's housemate. Without waiting for a reply, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and looked at the drawers. "Her room had been searched," he said as Annette slowly opened the center desk drawer. He tried the nearest filing cabinet; it was unlocked. "They were lookin' for somethin'."

"I wonder why they gave up. Here's another pistol."

He turned to see her place a small, pearl-handled Derringer on the desk. The barrel was engraved in a filigree pattern. It was the perfect image of what most assumed was a lady's gun and looked as though it had never been handled. "There were two in her nightstand, and one under a pillow. She must have felt threatened."

"Considering who she spends her time with..." Annette gave a slight shrug and perched in the leather chair behind the desk to search the other drawers. "The bottom drawer on the desk is locked."

"Ah can—" he ended his suggestion when she picked up a paperclip. She bent it back then ducked to work on the lock. Still looking through the filing cabinets, he briefly wondered if the dead woman upstairs had kept every file relating to her work at Med-Coast Oil. At the sound of a heavy drawer opening he looked over and saw Annette toss the paperclip onto the desk. "Did yeh learn that at the museum?"

"My cousin." A brief smile touched her lips. "She had a tendency to lock us out of our apartment when we shared an apartment in college."

"Did yeh like school?" he asked after a moment.

"Most of the time, yes. There were a few times that I got frustrated. I loved my courses, though." She disappeared from view and he heard the rustling of papers. "I spent one summer in London, doing a work study at the British Museum. After that I knew I wanted to work abroad."

"Yeh don't like the Smithsonian?" Her head popped up and he rubbed the back of his neck before reaching for the next drawer. "Drew did a full background check on yeh."

"Oh. I love the Smithsonian. I've just always been interested in European art and history. Not that I don't enjoy American. I just..." A smile flickered at her lips. "I guess I enjoy European more. Not just European, though." She looked down, bringing a stack of papers onto the top of the desk.

"All art and history then?" he guessed, stooping to rifle through the contents of the bottom drawer.

"Exactly."

Stephen nodded, attention already diverted by the small wood chest in the bottom drawer. "Found somethin'."

It wasn't until he stood and turned to place the chest on the desk that he realized she'd said the same thing. She pushed the papers out of the way for him. "The drawer has a false bottom," she said.

He noticed the black leather-bound book in her hand. "Diary?"

"I believe so. It's in Arabic, I think. Drew mentioned she was born in Syria, right?" She clutched the book tightly as she looked to the box he'd set down. "I'm almost scared t look inside that."

"That makes two of us." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Turning the box so the hinges faced her, he carefully lifted the lid and peered inside. Seeing nothing that would frighten her, he opened the lid fully. Inside, lying on a bed of black velvet, were two coins. Curiosity took over and he plucked them out. He turned them over in his hand, noting the faded heads. The silver was faded with age but still gleamed under the light of the lamp. "Yer the history expert, what're these?"

Annette took one in her hand, bringing it close for examination. "I can't be sure, but I'd say they're shekels of Tyre."

He racked his brain, hoping to find some nugget of information that would help him. "Old coins sittin' in a box in a bottom drawer. Obviously important, but not enough to have lying about where she can see them every day." Dropping the coin back into the box, he fished out his phone when it began to vibrate in his pocket. The words on the screen from Stu caused him to slam the lid down. Annette started at the sudden movement. "We've got to run."

She didn't question why. He saw her grab a leather pouch from the bottom drawer as he rounded the desk. Leather-bound journal clutched to her chest, she followed his lead out of the room. They were in the foyer when she spoke. "Del Rio—"

"Is on his way with a few of the guys. Right now they're behind Levesque." Stephen reached for her arm at the faint glow of light. It swept across the foyer through the front windows and he cursed under his breath. Peering through the window by the door he saw the car in the drive. The lights shut off. In the glow of the street lights he saw a figure climb out, felt Annette wince at the sound of the car door slamming. Squinting, he followed the progress of the figure as it moved to the side of the house, and breathed a little easier. Giving her arm a squeeze, he eased the front door open just as the rattle of a key sounded in the kitchen door. "Get to the car," he whispered, pushing Annette outside. "And stay there." He sensed her refusal and pushed the box into her arms. "Go."

She gave a weak nod then turned, running down the steps. He watched her progress down the sidewalk, hand gripping the doorknob as the door at the back of the house slammed shut. A male voice called out in French. The clatter of keys against the counter, then the rattle of bottles as the man opened the refrigerator. Seizing the opportunity, he slipped outside, eyes on the car moving down the street at a snail's pace. Its headlights were off; they flashed briefly as it passed the house. Behind him, the voice called out again, and he broke into a run.

The maneuvers had been practiced, gone over repeatedly until they all knew their part depending on the situation. The dark car moved in reverse and he darted down the sidewalk. He was across the street, near his own car, when the sound of crunching metal came. Refusing to look back he threw open the passenger door of his car and slid in, somehow already knowing that Annette was behind the wheel.

"That car just—"

"It was supposed to." The porch light was on now, and the man was hurrying across the lawn to survey the damage of his sleek sports car. As they watched, a large muscled man climbed out of the wreckage. Stephen knew the accident hadn't caused a scratch on him, but his associate wavered on his feet, holding the back of his head as though injured. "Let's go."

"The door. You left it open," she said as she made a U-turn in the street to head in the opposite direction.

"He won't remember that in all the excitement."

"So he didn't see you?"

She sounded worried. He felt the corner of his mouth tug up into a smile. "No."

"Good." She turned onto another street, obviously having no idea where to go. Sighing, she stopped the car in front of a church. "Stu's already pissed at me for disobeying him, I'd hate to see what he'd do if I managed to get you hurt or worse."

"Ah'll handle Stu," he promised. "Ah'll tell him ah insisted on comin' here."

Annette snorted. "Like he'll believe that. He figured out within hours of meeting me that I'm stubborn as the day is long."

"Spirited," he corrected.

"I never thought of myself as spirited." She gave her head a quick shake and placed the diary on the console between them. "I just hope this has some of the answers I'm looking for."

"We'll know soon." Instinctively he covered her hand with his. "We have someone that can translate it."

As he told her how to get out of the neighborhood, he knew her thoughts were the same as his. _Hopefully before another person has to die_.

* * *

The building Annette parked in front of was nondescript, blending in with the other office buildings nearby. Had she passed it in her meanderings of the city she couldn't remember, and doubted she would be able to pick it out if told to. No placard or signs gave away what business was dealt with inside. She felt the now-familiar anxiety claw at her chest as she got out of the car. The spring night was cool, a faint drizzle still falling.

When she rounded the car Stephen was already out. She dropped the keys in his hand, clinging to the warmth of his fingers when they brushed against hers. He shut the door, box under his arm, then reached for her hand.

"Ya sure ya want to go in there?"

She tensed but immediately relaxed at the sound of Drew's voice. Turning, she saw him walking towards them. "Is he..."

"Hell hath no fury like a double-crossed Stuart Bennett," Drew said. He took the keys from Stephen. His smile was quick but reassuring. "Don't worry none, lass. He won't hurt ya. He'll rant and rave, may call ya every name in the book, but he'll get over it once he sees ya aren't hurt." He rattled the keys as he walked around to climb into the car.

"Great," Annette groaned as Stephen led her into the building. The lobby was modern, sleek lines and monochrome coloring. A man was behind the low reception desk, feet propped up, reading a newspaper.

The newspaper was lowered, and the man gave them a nod. "How's it goin', Ste?"

"Can't complain too much. Yeh alright, Ron?"

"Fine and dandy." The newspaper concealed his face again. "Everybody's upstairs waitin' on you."

"Ah figured." Stephen gave Annette's hand a squeeze as he guided her to the elevator. The ride up was silent, each floor they passed only increasing her anxiety. She was suddenly a little girl again, being led to her grandfather for retribution after smashing the antique vase that had belonged to his great-great-grandmother. She wasn't sure who had been more disappointed in her actions. The punishment had not fit the crime; she'd thought so even then. She couldn't even remember what her punishment had been, only the look of utter heartbreak on his face when she'd stammered out the words.

The doors slid open on the fifteenth floor, a soft bell announcing their arrival. Garnering all of her courage she stepped out. She barely cleared the doors when she saw Stu waiting. Directly across, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, his expression was positively murderous.

He straightened to his full height. God, the man was even taller than she remembered. One arm dropped to his side and he pointed to her then to a door at the end of the hall. "You," he ground out. "Now."

"Stu—"

"Don't. I know this was all her idea." Stu jerked his head in the opposite direction. "Stephanie wants to talk to you."

The look Stephen sent her wished her luck. Meekly, she turned in the direction Stu had pointed. Fully aware of him walking right behind her she clutched the journal and box to her chest. She knew she fully deserved the setting down she was about to receive but she hadn't expected to be so scared. She had never seen him so angry.

She made the decision to never make him angry again.

He reached around her to open the door, other hand resting on the small of her back to push her into the room. She recognized it as a waiting room but had no time to take in the surroundings. Guided further inside, she winced at the door slamming behind them and continued forward, through a door marked _Private_. It, too, was slammed shut and she turned to face him.

The apology she had rehearsed in the car died on her tongue as his lips crashed against hers. Taken aback, she flailed, barely hearing the box and journal fall to the floor. Her hands grasped his biceps as his cupped her face to hold her still.

"Don't you ever do that again," he growled between kisses, pushing her further into the room. Still in shock at the tenacity of his kiss, she stumbled but he caught her up against him. His hand kept her upright, palm searing her flesh through her jeans.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, eyes closing when his tongue slipped into her mouth. Overcome by the taste of him she leaned close, gasping at the hard edge of a desk against her backside.

"I could kill him for letting you go through with it." Stu lifted her up. The hand on her cheek dropped and she heard the clatter of a pencil cup behind her.

"Please don't be mad at him." Sliding her fingers into his hair she didn't resist when he urged her to lie back. "If he hadn't gone with me, I would have gone alone."

"Stubborn bitch, aren't you?"

She broke the series of kisses to glare up at him. The reaction was immediate and she was just as surprised as he when her palm met his cheek. "Oh, shit. I—"

He growled, lips crashing against hers again. His hands grabbed her wrists. She saw the mark on his cheek before he leaned over her, holding her arms above her head with one hand. His lips and tongue worked hers until she felt the last of her resistance slide away. Fingers trailed along her side before pushing beneath her jacket and shirt. She gasped into his mouth at the feel of his warm fingertips brushing against her skin.

When he nudged her thigh with one knee she parted her legs, locking them around his waist. Longing to touch him but powerless beneath his strength, she let her head fall back as his lips moved to her cheek.

"I'm supposed to be fucking you right now," he whispered in her ear. The words sent a shiver down her spine. "Right now we should be at least on round two."

"T-two?" she repeated, voice a mere gurgle as his teeth scraped her earlobe. She had given in to fantasizing about their promised time together. She had presumed he would give her a decent tumble between the sheets then leave her for the comforts of his own bed.

"Yes." His hand slid down to grip her thigh, giving a gentle tug. When she had loosened her grip on his waist he rested his fingers over the button of her jeans. "By my calculations, we should have progressed to having you on all fours." He nipped at her throat, thumb tracing the patch of skin just above the waistband of her jeans. A patch of skin that until that moment had never been the cause of arousal. "In fact... You should be screaming my name."

The spark of desire she'd felt upon the first taste of him was now a roiling pool of molten lava. "Stu," she gasped, straining against the grip on her wrist. "I don't scream."

"You will before I'm finished with you."

As quickly as he had roused her to the height of passion, he pulled away. He tugged on her wrists so she was forced to sit upright. Eyes wide, she stared up at him, hands grasping his shirt when he released her wrists. "What are you—"

"I refuse to fuck you for the first time on my desk." His tone indicated he would like to have her in that particular spot eventually. "And I'm too pissed right now to give in and do it anyway."

His eyes were a storm of rage and desire. She flattened her hands on his chest and gulped at the feel of his heartbeat. "I really am sorry, Stu. I didn't want to go behind your back, but—" She paused to take a breath, hoping it would calm her own racing heart. "I am a stubborn bitch, I suppose. I couldn't have sat still in Athens knowing there was a possibility I could get answers in Versailles."

"You could have been killed." He raked a hand through his hair. "If you'd gotten there five minutes earlier, you would have been taken by Brooks. If you'd stayed there two minutes longer, Levesque would have certainly killed you. Do you have any idea how..." Stu shook his head and wrapped his arms around her.

Crushed against him, she recalled his brief explanation of the woman he had sworn to protect. The woman who'd argued with him and then killed. She closed her eyes, circling her arms around him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, comforted by the feel of his lips on the top of her head. "I truly am. And I promise I'll never do it again."

"I know you won't. If I have to handcuff you to my bed, I'm never letting you out of my sight again." He pressed another kiss to her head. When he pulled away, his palm lingered on her cheek in a gentle caress. Then, turning, he retrieved the items she'd dropped. "Now tell me what you found."

Stunned that he could switch from arduous to angry to worried to business-like in the span of a few moments, she blinked. Her mind scrambled to catch up and she wet her lips, gaze moving to the box and journal he placed next to her on the desk. Remembering the coin she'd dropped into her pocket, she shifted to retrieve it. In the furor of the past moments she'd forgotten the leather pouch she'd found in Adah Ziller's bottom drawer and brought that out as well, placing both atop the box. Voice shaky at first, she explained the coins and the Arabic script in the leather-bound book.

"And this?" he asked, lifting the pouch.

"It had a few keys in it. I think there are papers in the bottom." She watched the fingers that had stirred her body pull at the strings of the pouch. "I just grabbed it because it seemed interesting."

"Could be." He glanced inside before slipping it into his pocket. The coin he placed inside the box with the other, the journal atop it. Picking up both, he held out his free hand to her. "Cody and Ted can work on translating the diary, and Drew can find out about the coins. I'll give the pouch to Stephanie, see if the contents lead us anywhere."

"And Stephen?" she asked, slipping her hand into his as she hopped off the desk.

"I'll put him in charge of setting up another safe house. One you can't escape from," he added. Guiding her in front of him, he slid his hand to rest at the small of her back.

"Am I supposed to just stare at the four walls while everyone else works?" she inquired.

"You're going with me." He stopped her before she could open the door leading into the outer office.

"Where?" Annette shifted her head to look back at him just in time to catch his smirk.

"My place." Stu's hand cupped her hip, voice smooth as silk. "You've a ceiling to memorize. And I've got to work a scream out of you. Or a dozen."

* * *

**A/N: Why yes I am ending it here. Evil, aren't I? :)**

**Huge thank you to Jojo (I have a feeling you'll be saying you want MORE again), Blackhat (eek, me too! And don't worry, all will be revealed), Malabrigo (that was you, wasn't it?), ThatGirl54, charmedbyortonbarrett, Agnesita1385 (thanks for giving it a try and so glad you're enjoying it!), Nikki (just don't change your pic, okay? ;)), and Amber (awww I love you) for the wonderful reviews. Also thank you to everyone who has added this to their favorites and/or alerts. Love you all! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Not what you expected?" Stu asked, watching as Annette looked around the sparse living area of his apartment. Dropping his keys on the low table by the door, he checked to make sure the locks were turned before removing his jacket and moving further into the room. Tossing the jacket onto the couch, he rubbed his chin, unable to get a hint as to what she was thinking. Quite proud of himself for not having a sink filled with dirty dishes or clothes scattered about, he began to worry when she turned in a circle in the middle of the room.

"It's..." Annette forced a smile. The apartment was sleek and modern. Aside from a framed print hanging on the wall above the sofa, it seemed void of decoration. The shelves of the large black entertainment center, which dominated one wall, was well-stocked with DVDs. In the corner next to the sofa, a shelf built into the wall was stuffed with books. A week-old newspaper was spread across the coffee table. The walls were white, the sofa and two armchairs upholstered in a charcoal gray that matched the floor-length curtains. Aside from the print on the wall and the deep burgundy of the cabinets in the kitchen, the area was devoid of color. "Nice," she finally offered. "Clean."

"I don't like a lot of clutter." He felt the need to explain. "And since this isn't really home, I don't care as long as it's clean and the bed's comfortable."

She nodded, relaxing a bit when he moved closer. Wishing they could have picked up where they left off in his office, she removed her jacket and laid it over the back of an armchair. "What do you consider home?"

"Wherever I want to be most." A smile pulled at his lips as he wrapped an arm around her. He placed his hand on the small of her back, drawing her closer. Other hand sliding up her arm, he dipped his head. His lips met hers just as his fingers slid into her hair, keeping her head tipped back. He heard a soft whine and broke the kiss so he could look into her eyes. "And right now, that would be my bed."

Annette didn't resist when he guided her backwards into a small alcove. Hands clutching the front of his shirt, she wondered if she was about to make yet another mistake. But his lips captured hers again, her back met the built-in shelves, and she didn't care anymore. The hand on her back pulled at her shirt before diving beneath, fingers plucking at the clasp of her bra while his tongue demanded entry. Swept away already, she could only hold on as he walked her to the bedroom. The hand in her hair pulled away to slap at the wall.

"When I get back, I want you naked," he murmured against the corner of her mouth. His hand landed on her backside in a quick smack.

She could only stare when he turned to disappear in the room opposite. Body trembling in anticipation, she had her shirt removed before she thought to glance around the bedroom.

The large bed was definitely the centerpiece, its duvet the same charcoal gray as the sofa and armchairs in the living room. Two nightstands matched the headboard. She couldn't help the smile when she saw the gray incorporated in the dresser and the mirror hanging on the wall above the bed. The curtains, drawn to block any light from outside, were a cream that softened the monochrome color scheme. Stepping out of her shoes she looked at the items lined up on the dresser. She wondered if the contents of his drawers and closet were as neat and orderly as the rest of the apartment.

_What's taking him so long?_ she thought, letting her jeans fall on the floor next to her shirt. A shiver swept through her and she rubbed her bare arms, crossing the bare floor to the bed. She pulled back the duvet, taking note of the striped dress shirt tossed carelessly across the foot of the bed before climbing in.

"You're not naked," Stu admonished, smirking when his statement caused her to jump slightly. Standing in the doorway, he watched a strap of her bra fall off her shoulder and unconsciously wet his lips. One eyebrow lifted in question when she wriggled beneath the duvet.

"I'm getting there," she informed. Drawing her knees up, she reached down to pull her panties off her ankles. Meeting his eyes, she felt the heat pool in the pit of her belly. Even from across the room she could see the smoldering intensity in his eyes. Tossing her panties onto the floor, she then reached behind her to unhook her bra.

He followed the path of her bra as it sailed through the air to land on the floor. Looking from it to her, he entered the room, peeling off his t-shirt. "There's no fun in having you naked if I can't see you, Annette."

At least two good retorts came to mind, but she was distracted by the sight of his bare torso and chest. She'd seen them before: the broad shoulders, two tattoos she had yet to look at closely, the smattering of freckles across his chest. She drank in the sight as she would have a glass of lemonade on a sultry summer afternoon. Gasping when the duvet was pulled away from her body, she shifted her gaze to his face. He towered over her, one curl falling across his forehead. She heard the metallic clink of his belt buckle, the rasp of a zipper, then he was reaching for her.

He grasped her arms, pulling until she was on her knees before him. The demand that had been in his mind died on his lips when she leaned in for a kiss. Her soft scent enveloped him, hands flattening against his chest. Confused as to who was in control, he whispered her name as she broke the kiss. Her hands glided over his skin, and she ducked her head to do the same with her lips. The touch of her tongue against his skin caused him to groan. He glanced down, saw her hair tumble over her shoulders as she bent over. He was surprised to see a tattoo between her shoulder blades, but there was no time to examine it. Her fingers slipped lower, nudging his jeans and boxer briefs down. Smirking as her intention became clear, he grasped a handful of her hair, fingers tangling in the blonde locks. Hot breath coursed over him and he gave her hair a gentle tug.

Annette's lips parted in surprise at his swift urging. Her eyes widened when he guided her closer, the tip of him sliding across her bottom lip. Her tongue darted forward and at the first taste she craved more. Opening her mouth wider, she looked up at him.

"Shit," he moaned. He felt the bite of her nails at his hips, the slight sting of pain only adding to his desire. There was no resistance as he guided her mouth further down his length. Gazing into her eyes, he saw them glow with desire as she allowed him to set the pace. One hand slid over to grip the base of his cock and he allowed his head to fall back as she enveloped him. She seemed to know not to go too fast and each time she drew back her tongue flickered over the tip, eliciting a low growl from his chest. He tightened his grip on her hair. "You do that well, my dear," he whispered, as he stepped out of the garments pooled at his ankles. "If you ever feel the need to run your mouth, you're free to use it on my dick instead."

She would have been outraged had the words been said at another time. Instead, she curved her lips into a smile, eyes drifting closed as she worked to please him. It occurred to her that if occupying her mouth with him instead of speaking, she wouldn't mind too much. Even though he was in complete control she felt a surge of power when she felt him tremble. She whined when he pulled on her hair, dragging her off his cock and back to her knees. His hand left her hair, trailing down her back, and their lips met in a furious kiss. His teeth and tongue worked over her bottom lip. Fingers danced along her sides until they reached her hips.

"Turn around," he demanded, already starting to spin her. He heard her soft gasp as she leaned forward, saw her brace her hands on the mattress. Gaze sweeping over her body, he licked his bottom lip in anticipation. He knelt behind her, hands following an invisible trail from her ankles to her thighs. One hand slipped between them as the other continued up the length of her body, clutching her shoulder. He found her hot, slick and ready for him.

Annette whimpered his name at the first brush of his fingers along her slit. She felt him shift, then the heat of his body leaning over her. The hand on her shoulder left long enough to brush her hair away from her neck. Tilting her head to the side, she closed her eyes at the feel of his breath against her skin. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip.

"Not going to scream, are you?" he asked. His voice was low, the tone slightly taunting as his fingers worked along her slit. He slid his thumb upward, seeking. When it pressed against her clit she tensed, fingers clawing at the sheet. He smirked upon seeing her reaction and plunged a finger into her and held it still.

"Stu," she whined, leaning back to meet his finger. Longing for more, she reached back with one hand, fingers sliding through his hair. "Please..."

He nipped at the curve of her shoulder, pumping his finger in and out slowly. "Please what?"

The sound that left her throat was a mixture of pleasure and frustration. "I need you."

"Need me to what?" he asked, another finger joining the first. As he worked them, a bit faster now, he drew in a deep breath. She felt so tight, so deliciously hot, that it took all his willpower to keep from slamming his cock into her. While he waited for her answer he kissed his way down her back, pausing to get a good look at the tattoo he'd spied earlier. It was a swirl of yellow, growing darker in the center to resemble a crescent moon. The outer edges were mixed with blue. He knew he should know its importance but found himself unable to figure it out. Tracing it with his tongue, he increased the pace of his fingers. "Charming," he murmured against her skin, a smile tugging at his lips when he felt her start to tremble. "When did you get it?"

"C-college," she stammered. She felt a warm flush creep up on her cheeks. The pool of heat in her belly increased with each stroke of his fingers and she could feel the blinding ecstasy approaching.

"What is it, precisely?"

Fighting a shriek of impatience, Annette clawed at the sheet. Her head slumped forward, his conversational tone unbelievable through the haze of passion. "The moon from Van Gogh's _The Starry Night_."

"Ah, I should have known. Very interesting, my dear. I wouldn't have thought you the type to have a tattoo." He placed a kiss to it then worked his way lower. When he pulled his fingers free of her slick sex she moaned, and he glanced up to see her push herself up, obviously preparing for something more substantial. His grin was wicked as he brushed his lips over the curve of her backside, unable to resist sinking his teeth into the soft flesh.

"Stu, please." Her voice was low, barely a throaty moan, as she glanced back at him. She felt the rasp of his facial hair against her thigh as his head ducked low. Then his lips were there, tongue seeking. When it flicked over her clit she cried out, head falling forward once again. She was grateful when his hands grasped her hips, holding her upright, as the tumult of sensations nearly sent her over the edge. His ministrations were brief but overpowering, tongue lashing her clit almost brutally before dipping into her core.

Stu molded his hands to her backside, squeezing until he heard her yelp. Feeling her inner muscles clench around his tongue, he pulled away. He savored her taste, dipping his head to sweep his tongue over her again. Making sure to moan against her entrance, he then kissed his way along her thigh, waiting until she shuddered again before straightening onto his knees again. His heart pounding, he looked down, longing to see her eyes.

Annette braced herself, teeth chewing at her bottom lip as she waited for him to join their bodies. She doubted she had ever been so excited. Just as she began to wonder why he of all people aroused her so thoroughly, she felt his hands on her, turning her onto her back. He guided her around on the bed until her head rested on the pillows and she smiled up at him, grateful for his thoughtfulness. She reached for him, legs sliding over his thighs as he settled between them. His lips hovered over hers, eyes glowing. His kiss was brief and then he was leaning away, muttering a curse as he reached for his jeans on the floor.

He dug into his pockets, plucking out one of the condoms that he'd had to search for amongst his toiletries. He gave it a cursory glance before leaning back over her. Desperate to taste her lips again, he did so, knowing words were not needed. Her hand slid into his briefly, then pulled away. He smirked against her lips when her hand slipped lower. A ragged sigh pulled deep from his chest as she smoothed her fingers down his shaft, thumb moving in circles over the tip of his cock until he thought he would go mad. Then she shifted beneath him, lips sliding against his, and he felt his control slipping again. He caught her wrists in his hands, pressing them down on either side of her, nipping at her bottom lip when he felt her resist.

When he entered her, the cry that ripped from her chest echoed off the walls. Wanting more, she angled her hips upward. Her head tipped back when she felt him deep inside her. Above her, he shuddered, and their kiss broke as each released stuttering gasps. She struggled to pull her hand free, longing to touch him. His grip on her wrists loosened and she curved her arm around his, her fingers digging his bicep as he began to withdraw.

Stu grasped at her hip, holding her up against him. Marveling at how their bodies moved in unison immediately, he stared down at her. He remembered his promise to make her scream and set an unrelenting pace, gaze drifting along her body. Her breasts swayed with each stroke, peaked nipples begging to be touched. Releasing her other wrist, he pressed his hand to her chest. "Touch yourself."

She did as instructed, nails scraping his flesh before her hands slid up her torso. Cupping her breasts in her palms, she released a deep moan as her fingers brushed over her aching nipples. The hand on her chest made it difficult to breathe. Or perhaps that was due to him. She tilted her head back, biting down hard on her bottom lip. Hearing his growl, she pulled gently at her nipples.

"No wonder you don't scream," he muttered, releasing her hip. Leaning forward, he grabbed her hands and held them to the pillow above her head. He dipped his head, catching one turgid nipple between his teeth. His other hand roved her body, holding her knee against his hip before sliding up, lightly caressing her thigh. Feeling her tighten around his cock, he sucked hard at her nipple, roughly grasping the other between his fingers. He glanced up to gauge her reaction and smirked at the flush flooding her cheeks.

"Oh, shit," she gasped. Her stomach fluttered and sent the pooled heat throughout her body. The powerful thrusts, the mouth on her breast, the scrape of his facial hair against her skin – it was all too much. A cry strangled in her throat as the ecstasy hovered just beyond her reach. "Please, Stu, let me—"

He lifted his head when her request ended in another strangled cry. Taking note of the frustration on her face, he nodded. Hand already trailing lower on her body, he leaned back for a better view. "Work with me," he whispered, once again releasing her hands. She wriggled closer to him, the new angle of her hips causing his cock to go deeper, and he nearly lost it. Taking a deep breath, he guided her legs further apart. He watched his cock disappear inside her and stilled, rocking his hips until he felt her shudder. Giving her thigh a light smack so she would know to stay still, he reached to slide his thumb over her clit. She released a gasp and he flicked his gaze up to meet hers. "Like that?" When she didn't answer, he moved his thumb in slow circles. "Or do you want it harder?"

Annette gave a quick nod, reaching up to grasp the pillows. He continued the slow, teasing circles over her clit until a string of expletives tumbled from her lips. Then, suddenly, he braced his other hand on her hip and his thumb began a furious stroking over her clit. She tensed, her moan turning into a sharp cry. Just as the euphoria began to tease she felt him withdraw. "No, please—"

"Come on," he urged, slamming his cock back into her. Keeping up the relentless stroking of his thumb, he pulled out all the way. He teased her entrance with the tip of his cock, drawing out her torture until she began to cry out his name. A smirk tugged at his lips as he slid his length along her slit, fingers spreading her so it brushed over her clit. Again and again until her cries were little more than ragged breaths. Moving his hand from her hip to her shoulder, he kept her still, lightly tracing her collarbone as he drove his cock into her fully. She shook beneath him, legs locking around his waist to keep him close as her ear-piercing scream filled the room.

As the blinding pleasure took over, her hands flailed. Barely coherent of her surroundings, she was vaguely aware of his hands catching her shoulders. The warmth of his body as he lay over her was a welcome surprise, and she felt his lips slide over her cheek as he whispered her name. Shaking hands took hold of his shoulders, holding on as the desire grew again. His voice, a soft murmur against her ear, encouraged her, and she gave in, body seizing up as his gentle thrusts became faster. Pressing her face to his shoulder, she heard another scream. This time, though, it was followed by a series of harsh growls that turned into a shout of delight. His body tensed, cock driving deep into her one final time. Struggling to breathe, she felt him throb within her, the hands on her shoulders clenching almost painfully.

He eased his grip on her, gasping for breath. Staying over her until her body relaxed, he found her lips in a gentle kiss, fingers smoothing over her shoulders. Her nails raked over his skin as he pulled away. Lying next to her he stared up at the ceiling, barely feeling the cool sheets beneath his overheated skin. He tried to think of the proper words to say but found himself speechless. After a few moments she slowly turned to him, hand resting on his chest. His heart constricted as she tenderly curled close to his side, but he tucked his arm around her.

"Thank you," she whispered. Her lips brushed his shoulder then she pulled away.

He watched, tucking his arm behind his head, as she slid out of the bed. She retrieved his t-shirt from the floor, slipping it on, and he released a soft sigh as the soft flesh he'd memorized was concealed once again. Turning to him, she smiled.

"It's alright if I shower, isn't it?"

Chuckling, he sat up, groping for the boxer briefs he'd discarded. Unable to find them, he gave up his search and got to his feet. "Only if it's with me, my dear."

* * *

**A/N: A special thank-you to: ThatGirl54, Amber, Nikki, katiefabe, Lissa003, Malabrigo, prettybaby69, Jojo, charmedbyortonbarrett, Agnesita1385, and wades wife. Am I forgiven for making everyone wait? Love you all, thank you for reading! **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Annette marveled at how easy it was to forget the chaos and horror that had become her life. With lips trailing down her arm, it was surprisingly easy to forget everything else in the world. For the first time since meeting him her dreams had been peaceful. Whether that was from the euphoric pleasure she had achieved the night before or because she felt safe with him, she didn't know. She didn't question it, though, and pressed back against him, enjoying the warmth and security of his bed.

His kisses trailed back up her arm. The warmth of his breath on her shoulder and neck caused a smile to pull at her lips. His voice, thick with sleep, rumbled in her ear. "Sleep well?"

"Mm-hmm." The arm around her gave a squeeze as he murmured her name. His hand slid up, cupping her breast. Desire sparked and grew into a wildfire as his fingers tweaked her nipple, his teeth scraping her neck.

"Annette." He said it firmer this time, even as his hand skimmed downward. Her legs parted in anticipation, and she whined when the blanket was pulled from her body. "Annette, you need to wake up."

Her eyes snapped open. The same room as her dream, this time filled with the bright sun of mid-morning instead of the soft glow of dawn. She blinked as full consciousness took hold and shifted on the bed, reaching. Feeling only cool sheets, she looked up to see he was standing by the bed.

"Good dream?" Stu asked. He smiled as he lifted a steaming mug to his lips.

"Yes..." She rolled into a seated position, brushing her tousled hair from her face. He was dressed, his hair slicked back and a watch glinting on his wrist. Her gaze dipped down, taking in the light blue dress shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. "What time is it?"

"Ten. You need to get up and shower. We're going to the office to see what Cody and Ted translated overnight. They've gotten some information. And the new safe house is ready."

Crisp and businesslike. The night before might never have happened. Were his scent not still clinging to her skin, she would have thought she dreamed it all. Feeling naked beneath his gaze, she drew the sheet around her naked body and gave a nod. She glanced around the room, trying to recall where her clothes had been left, and saw them draped across the foot of the bed. "Last night," she said, turning to look at him. An eyebrow raised in question and she sighed. "We can do that again, can't we?"

He chuckled. Setting his mug down on the nightstand, he knelt on the edge of the bed and leaned close. His lips covered hers in a quick kiss, his hand cupping her cheek. "Of course we can, my dear."

Relieved, she was prepared to pull away. But his hand slid into her hair, holding her close. Before she knew what was happening, he urged her back on the bed. "Stu," she whispered when he began to pull at the sheet around her.

"No one's expecting us yet," he said. "I told them you were still sleeping."

She allowed her eyes to slip closed as his lips began to suck at her neck, hands driving her to distraction. Her own hands moved down his back, pulling at his shirt until it was freed from his slacks. One hand worked on the buttons of his shirt, the other sliding further down to slide over his hardening cock. "You know, I don't normally do this."

He chuckled, nipping at her throat then reaching to unbuckle his belt. "You seem to know what to do, my dear."

"That's true. I mean, obviously I wasn't a virgin. But I'm not some raging slut, either."

"I think I figured that out." There was fumbling as they removed his slacks, then he leaned back to pull off his shirt. A condom was produced and she watched him roll it down his length, wondering when such a task had become arousing. She wet her lips, staring up at him as he began to stroke his cock. "Are we really going to talk about this now?"

She bit down on her bottom lip, unable to tear her gaze from the long fingers moving so swiftly. "No," she decided firmly. "We're not."

He chuckled, then was over her. His lips crashed against hers in a bruising kiss, hands landing on her thighs to hold them apart as his cock slid against her. Then, without warning, he pushed into her, causing her to break the kiss so she could shriek. A pleased hum rumbling in his throat, he nipped at her earlobe.

It was hard, fast, and had her screaming within seconds. Even though he didn't tell her to, she kept her hands on his shoulders, reveling in the knowledge that he was in complete control. The fingers on her thighs would likely leave marks but she didn't care. Too far gone to even feel the bruising grasp, she writhed beneath him as she came down from her high, already craving more. Seconds before he began to growl, his thrusts quickening, she wondered if she would ever have enough.

Afterward she stared up at the ceiling, in awe of his prowess. Breathless, perspiration clinging to her skin, she would have been content to spend the rest of the day in bed. Next to her, he seemed equally breathless, left hand resting possessively on her right thigh. His thumb moved in slow circles before his palm lightly patted her flesh.

"Time to get up," he decided. "Shower while I fix your coffee."

* * *

"Ya think they—" Drew ended his inquiry at the sharp look Stephen sent him. Holding up his hands to show no ill meaning, he then helped himself to a cup of coffee. "I was just asking."

"Stu and the Jacobs girl?"

Stephen remained silent as Drew launched into the gossip with Ted, whose gentle Southern accent sounded out of place among his European coworkers. The two men hovered near the coffeepot, faces showing exhaustion from working all night. At the end of the conference table, Cody sat with his head propped on his chin, reading over the printouts of the translations. At Drew's now-empty spot were the items Annette had brought from Ziller's house.

Reaching for them, Stephen picked up one of the coins. He turned it over in his hand, unable to imagine it held any significance. There had been no mention of it in Ziller's journal so far. His gaze slid to the clock on the wall. It had been well over an hour since he'd spoken to Stu, who'd informed him that Annette was still asleep. He'd desperately tried to keep from doing so, but he'd found himself listening closely to his friend's voice to pick up any clues. Then, realizing what he was doing, he had cursed himself and put a stop to it.

It was none of his business.

He reminded himself of that when the door opened to admit Stu and Annette. Turning off his instinct to read their moods, he placed the coin back on the table and settled back in his seat, trying his best to pay no attention to the navy blue sweatshirt that bore the crest of Stu's favorite football team.

Once everyone was seated, Ted handed printouts of the diary's translation. Stephen barely glanced at his copy, knowing Ted and Cody would go over what they had learned.

"We've gotten about halfway through," Ted began, settling in his seat. "From what we've read, it's not a daily journal. It's more like a history of what she's done." He indicated the first page. "There were five pages about her childhood."

"It doesn't look too out of the norm," Annette murmured, not looking up from her copy of the printout.

"When she was fifteen one of her father's employees raped her. Well, she referred to it as seduced. There isn't much detail, but she calls it her first triumph."

"This led to her being sent to England. Her mother knew, but her father didn't, and she mentions that had her father learned she would have been forced to marry the man."

Cody cleared his throat. "In England, she got through school with no problems. She calls English men fools and says that she learned quickly they would do anything in exchange for sex. Fellow students, teachers, even the man whose family she stayed with over holidays."

Annette raised her head. Stephen saw the look of compassion in her eyes and had a hunch as to what she was thinking. "The poor thing," she murmured, confirming Stephen's supposition. "They used her."

"More like she used them," Stu said. "'The girl's father kept me in fine clothes and a new car. I kept him satisfied.' She kept him on a string."

"The men knew what would happen if they were found out and let her call the shots," Ted put in. "If she wasn't happy, she threatened telling their wives, supervisors... She thrived on the danger."

The compassion fled from Annette's eyes. She straightened her chin and gave a small nod.

"Despite her extracurricular activities, she excelled in the school. Her family believed she would return to Syria upon completion. But this happened..."

Stephen dropped his gaze to the fourth page of the translation as Cody began to read.

_I informed my mother that I was going to take a holiday to the coast before coming home. The foolish woman did not even ask which coast. Two days after speaking with her, I was on the private jet of Mr. Irvine. I showed my gratitude to him as soon as we were in the air. The exhilaration of achieving orgasm thousands of miles above the Earth! I was forever in his debt. Within a week, he had arranged a new name for me. Within a month, he had secured a position for me in his friend's company. I will forever be grateful to him for the opportunities he provided._

It went on, going into how Irvine – she referred to him only by his real name – preferred sex. By the time he'd finished the page, Stephen felt sick to his stomach. Pushing away from the table, he rose to get a cup of coffee. Not that he needed it; he desperately needed a reason to distance himself from Adah Ziller's gruesome sexual relationship with the man they knew as Jericho.

As the rundown continued, Annette found herself shrinking further and further into her chair. The woman whose death she and Stephen had almost witnessed had been self-serving in all her dealings with other people. She picked up men as some women picked up a coffee on the way to work. When she had gotten what she wanted – a new car, a promotion – she dropped them like a used tissue.

"The next entry starts mentioning something called the 'Offering,'" Cody continued. He muffled a yawn against his shoulder. "We're hoping she'll detail what it is later on, but all we know so far is that it's connected to Jericho. I flipped through the rest of the book and 'Offering' is on nearly every page."

Stu requested they break for a late lunch. The table was cleared as a man Annette had never seen before arrived with the food. He gave her a warm smile, teeth shining brilliantly against his mahogany skin, and took the seat next to her while Cody and Stu dug through the bags.

"Miss Jacobs," the newcomer greeted. His faint accent was difficult to place. "Glad to finally meet you." A hand was extended and she hesitantly reached to shake it. "My name is Kofi. I'll be joining you at the next house."

"Nice to meet you," she murmured, glancing at Stu. She couldn't help but wonder if he had pulled in more reinforcements to keep her in place. Turning her attention back to the man beside her, she managed a smile and asked Kofi where he was from. She found him personable and warm, causing her to relax while they ate.

The meal over, Kofi helped clear the trash. He straightened his tie, promised Stu he would have the cars ready within an hour, and left.

"The coins," Stu announced, causing Drew to lurch a bit in his seat. The Scotsman offered a quick, sheepish grin, then plucked one of the coins from the small box.

"They're old, but aside from that, there's no significance to them at all. Ya can buy them on eBay or pick them up in nearly any antique store." He flipped it in the air and caught it in his palm. "They was in use during the first century in Rome. Unless the lads find a mention of it in her journal, my only guess is that she picked them up on a shopping trip. Ya said her place was filled with antiques?"

"What little Ah looked around, yeah," Stephen answered.

"I'll flip through the journal on the road and see if there's any mention of them," Ted offered. "She didn't give details about every gift she received, though. From what we've read so far, she usually sold off what she could to buy something she really wanted."

"Right. We need to get moving. Stephanie and Del Rio are already gone?" Stu asked. At his words, the other men began to gather their paperwork. Wanting to feel useful, Annette tucked the coins back into the box and slipped it into one of the bags on the table.

"Stephanie's on her way to Rome now. Del Rio's back in Athens." Cody slipped the leather journal into a pocket on his laptop case. "Ryan and the guys have already cleared out the offices. They're going to lock up when we leave, then head out of the city."

Stu nodded as he rose to his feet. "I want you four to sleep on the road," he instructed. "We're taking three cars, right? Kofi, Ron, and I will do the driving."

"Ya sure ya alright to drive?" Drew asked, rubbing one stubbly cheek.

"I got plenty of rest last night," Stu assured.

* * *

"Tell me about the new house."

Stu fought a smile at Annette's request. Glancing to the two men dozing in the backseat, he shook his head and turned his attention back to the road. "It's a house. It's safe. That's all you need to know, my dear."

"I'm not going to sneak out in the middle of the night," she sighed. When he merely grunted, she laid a hand on his arm. "At least tell me how much farther it is?"

"Little over an hour," he answered. The car ahead of him flashed a turn signal and he did the same, guiding the car into the exit lane. "And as for sneaking out in the middle of the night... You're only allowed if it's to get into my bed."

"You mean we'll all have our own room?" she asked. Her hand fell away and out the corner of his eye he saw her fingers slide through her hair.

"I don't think so." He braced himself at the memory of the blonde locks sweeping over his skin. "Cody and Ted will probably room together, they've known each other since they were in school, so they get on well."

"Did you know Stephen before you began to work together?"

"I..." How had she segued into that? "We did. He's the one who told me about this job."

"What did you do before?"

"A bit of this and that."

"I can't picture you dabbling, Stu."

"I wouldn't call it dabbling, my dear." Keeping his eyes on the road, he focused on the fact that their exit was coming up. "What did you do before you moved to France?"

"Don't you already know?" she returned.

Stu rolled his eyes. "I know facts, Annette. I know where you went to school, where you've worked, the names of your immediate family. Aside from that, I'm a bit lost."

"If you know where I went to school and where I worked, then you know what I did before moving to France." She settle back in her seat. "My life was very, very dull and ordinary before I had a gun pressed to my back three nights ago."

"Was it only three?" he asked. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad that it seemed she'd been in his life for so much longer. So much had happened since he'd gotten out of the car that night in Paris.

"Wasn't it?" she murmured. She leaned down, pulling a notebook and pencil from her messenger bag. Sitting back, she began writing on a blank page.

As she did so, it occurred to him that she was wearing the same clothes she'd worn to his apartment. The sweatshirt now draped across her lap was his, and he he'd handed it over to her when she'd been unable to find her jacket. Kofi had been put in charge of getting more clothes for her, though Stu realized he wouldn't mind if she wore only his sweatshirt.

"Three nights and three days," she confirmed. "The first night I was chased down the street, Marie was killed, we moved to the first safe house. The first day you and I went through my reports on the museum, then we went to the market. Second night was when we almost... When they found us and we had to run. Second day was yesterday, and the third night was last night, when Stephen and I went to Versailles and then you and I..."

"You're allowed to say the word, my dear. I promise not to tell your mother."

"Trust me, she's well aware that I'm no longer a virgin." The pencil continued to move over the paper, the faint scratching noise barely audible.

"I can't imagine you announcing that over dinner," he chuckled, easing off the accelerator as he followed the car ahead onto the exit ramp. His gaze flicked to the mirror and saw the car behind following suit.

"I didn't have to," she murmured. When he glanced over their eyes met and he noted the quick, evil smirk.

"Did you take out an ad in the local paper?" he guessed.

"No, but one of my friends in college did to let the whole town know that her boyfriend cheated on her. With her aunt."

"Christ, what an idiot." Stu gave his head a shake. "I'm curious to know how your mother found out you weren't a virgin."

"Well." Annette sighed, tapping the pencil against the notebook. "I was a sophomore in college and she thought I was sharing an off-campus apartment with two other girls. In fact, I was living with my boyfriend. We started dating the year before."

"Lying to your parents?" He couldn't even pretend to sound outraged. The smirk on his face would have ruined the effect. Dropping his hand onto her thigh, he gave a squeeze while keeping an eye on the slow traffic that kept him from turning. "I knew you were naughty."

"Anyway, I was supposed to go home for Thanksgiving break but didn't. I had studying to do, and my boyfriend wasn't going home either because he had to work the day after Thanksgiving." Her hand covered his and Stu felt the gentle warmth begin to seep through his body, as it always did whenever she touched him. "My mother decided to surprise me and drove two hours to bring me leftovers and a couple of pies. I'd stupidly given her a key and when she let herself in—"

He glanced over when her sentenced ended in a sigh. "Well?"

"I was in the middle of having sex with my boyfriend," she said in a rush.

"In the living room of your apartment?" His smirk grew into a grin when she verified with a quick nod. After making his turn he glanced once again to the sleeping men in the backseat. "Did he keep going?"

"Stu," she gasped, cheeks flushing. "Of course he didn't!"

"Just checking." He made his turn, eyes never leaving the road ahead as they passed through a small town. Once they had traveled beyond the town's limits, he easily caught up to the car that Kofi was driving. A quick glance back showed him that Ron was behind him. He wished he could shake the feeling that something was wrong. There had been no signs that they'd been followed when leaving the city. Shortly after leaving he had received word from Ryan that the building was clear and they were on their way out.

What was it? He hadn't forgotten anything. He was certain. Ryan and his men were more than adept at making sure not even a stray paperclip would remain behind. With a muttered curse he reached for his phone, one hand keeping the wheel steady as he composed a message to Del Rio. He sent it, then copied the words into a new message for Stephanie. Within minutes he had their replies stating that things were clear on their end.

Annette's hand rested on his arm. "Stu—"

"Cody," he barked, eyes on the rearview mirror. The younger man lurched, startled awake. "Contact the police in Washington D.C. Have them do a welfare check on Annette's parents." He ignored Annette's startled gasp. "While you're at it, do the same for her great-aunt in Boston."

"On it," Cody promised, already opening his laptop.

"What's wrong?" Annette demanded. "Are his men there? Do you think they'll—"

"I don't know," he answered, tightening his grip on the wheel. "I'm just making sure."

* * *

Despite the rain that had been falling all day, the people around the bar were in a cheerful mood. Mugs were filled with brew, the TV in the corner just above the bar playing the football game. Some of the patrons were heartily invested in the game; rounds of cheers went up for the favored team. Others were conversing amongst themselves, though not quietly.

A buxom waitress approached the corner table, smile bright as the sun as she placed a plate in front of the waiting man. She leaned in close, asking if he wanted anything else.

Another time, he would have suggested she keep him company when she finished work. His eyes glinted as he considered the idea. "Not right now," he answered, reaching for his drink. Later, he promised himself as she smiled and walked away. After he finished his job.

He ate quickly. Unlike his cohorts he required a full stomach for what he was about to do. They were squeamish. Wimpy kids who had no idea the honor that was bestowed on them when their Master gave them a job. Draining the last of his beer, he saw his mark draw away from the bar.

There were teases that he was growing soft, that the little woman already had him on a chain. The man merely shook his head and laughed. With a promise that he'd see them all later, he pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and left.

_I want them to know I'm not playing around this time._

His Master's words echoed in his head as he dropped enough money to cover his tab. Getting to his feet, he smoothed his jacket, pushing his hands into the altered pockets as he headed outside. The rain continued to fall, slower now. He didn't bother with his hood, eyes already on the back of the man halfway down the block. His steps were unhurried, the pace of a man who was headed home.

Definitely not the pace of a man walking into a trap.

**A/N – The following people are all totally awesome: ThatGirl54 (Admitting you have an addiction is the first step to recovery!), katiefabe (Did I sneeze? ;)), prettybaby69 (Woot!), Blackhat (I recommend Marlboro!), Malabrigo (Stu growing soft? Heaven forbid!), Nikki (No, you're fantastic!), charmedbyortonbarrett (I try to go by the old adage 'good things come...' :)), Agnesita1285 (LURVE!), Amber (See my above recommendation!), wades wife (yay!), Jojo (I am perfectly okay with this. I am going to have business cards made with that title. And we'll see about the smut in every chapter.)**

**Seriously, thank you all SO much for the reviews. You really have no idea how much each and every one means to me. Also, thank you to everyone who has favorited/alerted this story. I adore you all! **


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

**A/N -Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! *blows kisses***

* * *

"Details of Ziller's death are in."

Annette had just started cooking dinner when she heard the words. Looking up from chopping potatoes, she watched Stu place his coffee on the table. Without a word, he followed Kofi, leaving her alone with Stephen in the small kitchen. She wanted to abandon her work and follow but remained. She'd offered to cook, and the hopeful look on Drew's face when she'd mentioned beef stew kept her in the kitchen.

Not that she truly minded. She doubted she wanted to hear the gruesome details of the woman's death. Resolved, she continued working on the potatoes. Perhaps her mother, who was the epitome of a housewife, had been onto something after all.

_Better to stay in the kitchen and not know, Annie, than to know and not be able to do anything._

Water splashed in the sink as Stephen rinsed out a cup, only adding to the sudden memories. Dishes, hand-washed after every meal, dried meticulously before being put away. There were so many little things that reminded her of the woman whose life purpose was, it seemed, to cook and clean. To plan dinners and cocktail parties for her husband's coworkers. The woman who had given up her dream of becoming an actress to make a home.

_Not me. _How many times had Annette uttered those words while growing up? She would focus on herself, follow her dreams no matter where they led. Then, maybe, if a man came along that wouldn't care if all there was for dinner was a microwave meal or a Chinese take-out menu, she might be inspired to get married.

That was before, though. Before her life had become a steady dash to stay alive. The men inside the postcard-worthy cottage tucked in the foothills of the Alps had nudged something inside her. Over the course of three days she'd grown to like all of them, even Ron and Kofi, who she'd only met once each before they had convened here. Since it seemed they were going to stay put for a little while, the previously undetected nurturing instinct had begun to take over. She had to do something, after all, and what better thing to do than make sure they all ate properly?

A desire to call her mother and ask for recipes hit her. Annette wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and had begun patting her pockets to locate her phone when the realization hit her: she couldn't call her mother. Thinking of their brief phone call two days before, when she had forced herself to sound calm and not let on that anything was wrong, she braced her hands on the edge of the counter. She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, praying the tears wouldn't come.

"Yeh alright?"

Stephen's voice, accompanied by his hand on her shoulder, brought a semblance of calm. She looked up at him, noted the concern in his eyes, and managed a nod. "I just... Well, as childish as it sounds, I miss my mother."

He nodded, hand leaving her as he leaned to retrieve the towel that had fallen to the floor. When she had resumed her chopping, he picked up a knife and reached for the carrots. "What's yer ma like?"

"She's... A mom," she murmured with a smile. How did one describe Bonnie Jacobs? "You know those old TV shows that depicted the wife and mom as little more than a homemaker? That's my mother. She cooks, she cleans, she irons. She always has cookies and a few minutes if you need to get something off your chest. I never thought of her as something other than a mom until I went to college. And even then..." She shrugged. "My friends' mothers all worked outside of the home. In middle school they would all come over after school, and she'd be there. With mini pizzas or fresh cookies and a great big smile."

"Sounds like my ma," he said with a knowing smile.

"She's wonderful at it, though. I know she gave up a lot to be a wife and mother, but I didn't realize that until I was in high school." Annette turned to push the potatoes into the pot of simmering water. Setting the cutting board down, she bit down on her bottom lip. "I've never thanked her."

"For what?"

"Always being there."

"When yeh see her again, yeh can." He looked at her. The thought that crossed her mind must have shown on her face for he shook his head. "Yeh gonna see her again, Annette."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. After a moment of staring down into the pot, she reached for the spoon. "Did your mother teach you how to help out in the kitchen?"

"She did. 'Yeh not goin' off in the world without knowin' how to fix a few decent meals' was her favorite thing to say." Stephen's imitation of a female voice was horrible and brought a chuckle from Annette. "Then after me dad left, she had to go to work and Ah had to help around the house."

Annette nodded, a tad sympathetic. Though her parents had so far enjoyed nearly thirty-five years of wedded bliss, she could sense how devastating it was for one parent to leave. All of a sudden, she wondered if Stu's parents were divorced. Then she shook her head. She knew more of Stephen than she did of Stu. Aside from sharing his bed with her, Stu had shared little else.

With all the mysteries and intrigue surrounding her, she was now wondering what secrets Stu held.

"Ste, you might want to read this—what the bloody hell are you doing, mate?"

Annette watched as Stephen looked up from his work. He regarded Stu silently, then looked back down at the cutting board. "Cuttin' up carrots for dinner?" he answered, a question in his tone.

Stu's expression was one of disbelief. "Right." He gestured over his shoulder. "You might want Cody and Drew to fill you in on Ziller's death."

Annette gave a nod when Stephen sent her a look of apology. She waited until he was gone before stepping over to finish the task. The knife sliding through the carrot was a loud, irritating sound. "Did you hear back from Washington yet?"

"A moment ago. Your parents are fine. As is your great-aunt, who cursed out the plainclothesman for disturbing her in the middle of _Keeping Up With the Kardashians_."

Able to picture her grandmother's sister, who had to be close to seventy, berating someone for interrupting her favorite show, Annette laughed. "Aunt Susie does love her trashy TV," she mused. "But are you sure my parents are alright?"

"Positive. I've asked Stephanie to have a few men keep an eye on them. It can't hurt."

"I know. Do you think..." She paused her thought as she turned to slide the carrots into the pot. Keeping her back to him, she drew in a deep breath, hoping he would agree. "Do you think I could call them? Just to let them know I'm okay."

"One last goodbye, is that what you're thinking?"

"Yes," she whispered, eyes closing briefly. Damn the man for being able to read her so well.

A hand closed over her shoulder and he spun her around to face him. "Stop," he demanded. "They won't get you. I won't let them."

"Surely you can see that I can't help it." Even though she knew he wouldn't be keen on intimacy at the moment, she stepped close, needing his warmth. "How did Ziller—"

"You don't need to know." His arm went around her, and she felt his lips brush against the top of her head as he drew her close. The tenderness surprised her but she enjoyed it. "Just know it wasn't pleasant."

"Have Cody and Ted gotten to the rest of the journal yet?" she asked.

"They just started. What's wrong?"

She shook her head, then recalled his sense that something was amiss earlier. "Just a feeling." Pulling away, she stilled when his hand cupped her cheek. "I have to get the onions chopped."

"You know once you cook a good meal for these morons they'll expect you to do so forever?"

"I don't mind. It gives me something to do."

"I'll try do to arrange a call home for you." The words were barely above a murmur as his hands cupped her shoulders. "I'm taking the first round of watch tonight, so try to get some rest before I come to bed."

Annette glanced back at him, parting her lips to reply. He gave her no chance, though, grasping her chin to hold her in place as his mouth descended over hers. Her grip on the knife loosened and it clattered to the floor, causing her to jump.

Stu broke the kiss with a sigh. "How much longer until dinner?"

"Once I get the onions in, about an hour."

"I'm going to take a shower, then." The tip of his index finger stroked her cheek. "You're welcome to join me."

The man had an almost insatiable appetite, she mused as he left the kitchen. She only hoped she could keep up. Stooping to retrieve the knife, she stepped to the sink to wash it off. As she did so, she realized her time was running out. If Jericho had his way, of course. Just over a week now.

Was it wrong of her to want to spend every last minute in Stu's arms?

* * *

"You're sure it was Brooks, aren't you, Annette?" Ted leaned his elbows on the table as he spoke.

"Positive. When he turned back in to switch off the light, I saw the tattoo on his neck. He was at the market the other day when Stu and I went, and I double-checked the photos Drew had of him."

"He must have hated her," Kofi said, his spoon clinking as he reached for his drink.

"Aye, it was certainly overkill," Drew mused. "Pass the bread, Cody?"

"How many times was she stabbed?" Annette asked.

Ted didn't look up from his bowl. "At least thirty. We think it may be more due to the size of some of the wounds."

"We're out of bread," Ron announced.

"Is there any hint they were involved with each other?" This from Annette, who was already on her feet to replenish the bread basket.

"None so far. She says in one of the entries that she has many partners and can't be bothered to name them all." Ted's spoon scraped the bottom of his bowl.

"Maybe they weren't and that's why he was so enraged?" Stephen suggested.

Stu looked on in silence as the six men and one woman continued to toss out theories and ideas. It was normal for the men, who'd learned that cases had to be dealt with no matter what was going on. He found it a bit odd, though, that Annette didn't seem bothered by the gory details of Ziller's death. Perhaps because the woman's journal proved her to be a despicable character. Nonetheless, it was a bit amusing to see her return from the kitchen, looking thoroughly domestic with a basket of warmed bread, asking whether or not Ziller had engaged in sex before her murder.

She'd toughened up a bit since her visit to Versailles with Stephen. She didn't flinch when Cody casually answered that semen had been found on the dead woman's body, nor did she pale when Drew added in that it had been mixed with blood. No, she merely placed the bread in front of Ted before reclaiming her seat next to him.

The stew she had made was practically devoured by the men. Stu had to admit it was delicious, and didn't hesitate to get another portion for himself. Around him, the conversation continued. Details of Ziller's death were mingled with requests for more. Despite the main topic of conversation, the atmosphere was almost warm. Ted and Ron had done a thorough check of the immediate area before sitting down to eat, and Cody kept his eye on the monitor that showed the views of seven closed-circuit cameras that had been installed before they arrived. So far, all was peaceful and quiet.

A little too quiet for Stu's peace of mind.

"I'll help with the dishes," Ted offered when Annette stood and began gathering the empty bowls. She attempted to brush off the offer but he insisted, rising to his feet.

Stu watched her head into the kitchen, then heard a yelp from one of the men opposite him. Looking over, he saw Cody giving his longtime friend a glare.

"You'll help, too," Ted insisted. "Your mama taught you some manners."

"She said she didn't need any help."

"Good lord, boy, it won't kill you to get your hands in some soapy water."

Stu laughed as Cody begrudgingly pushed back his chair. Bowls clattered as he stacked them, grumbling.

"I'm gonna head on up," Ron announced, not bothering to muffle a yawn. He stood, smiling at Annette when she came from the kitchen. "That was some good stew."

"I'm going to crash too. Thanks for dinner, Miss Jacobs." Kofi gave her a nod as he pushed his chair in.

"No problem. Good night," she said with a smile.

"Lass, ya cook almost as good as my mother," Drew sighed. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his stomach.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Stu smiled, watching her gather empty glasses and the spoons Cody had left behind. It was good, wasn't it, that she could hold her own with a bunch of men? Unwillingly, he recalled another night, similar to this, when he and the others had been left to fend for themselves while Leigh sorted out what she would wear the next day.

He knew it was wrong to make comparisons, but Annette and Leigh were so different that he couldn't help them coming to mind. One had been raised as a little princess, each and every whim catered to by a rich father with little to no time to spend with his only daughter. One had been raised in a home with both parents, with a mother that took care of the house and family.

He doubted Annette's mother had ever jetted off to an exclusive resort for a week with her latest lover. He doubted Leigh's mother had ever seen a stove, much less used one to cook a meal.

The comparisons, he realized as Annette leaned in front of him to get his empty glass, would undoubtedly continue. He nodded as Stephen said he was going to check in with Stephanie. Drew followed him out, saying he would make a round outside.

As soon as they were gone, he reached for her. He mentally cursed his inability to keep his hands off her, even as he pulled her into his lap. The spoons clanged as they landed on the table, and he gave her two seconds to set down the glass before meeting her lips with his. From the kitchen came the sounds of muffled conversation, clattering dishes, and running water, but they began

n to fade as he lost himself in the kiss.

He cupped the back of her neck, keeping her head at the right angle while his other hand roved her body. The shirt she wore was in the way but he didn't dare break the kiss to remove it. Fully aware that they could be disturbed at any time, he slipped his hand beneath the soft cotton, his tongue dueling with hers. Her skin was warm silk and he growled into her mouth as his hand slipped upwards to cup her breast. Annette broke the kiss, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Stu," she gasped.

"Shh."

"Ted and Cody—"

"Won't care. I just want to hold you for a moment," he murmured.

She relaxed over him, bit by bit, and finally leaned in to resume the kiss. He heard footsteps approaching. He knew she had too, for she began to pull away. When he looked to the open archway leading into the living room, he saw Stephen and his heart sank.

Bad news. Very bad news, judging by the look on his friend's face. All thoughts of holding Annette flew out of his mind as he rose. Concern flooded him when he took in the sickly pallor of Stephen's skin. And he knew. "Who?" he asked softly.

"Colin." It was barely a whisper, but more than enough.

Stu dropped into the chair he'd just vacated. Rubbing his face, he thought of the young man that, the last time he'd seen him, had been so full of life and joy. Stephen's cousin. Dead. "When?"

"This afternoon."

"Fuck," Stu seethed. Pushing himself to his feet, he crossed to his friend.

"Ah had me phone off. The battery died and ah forgot to turn it back on when Ah plugged it in." Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. "Dad messaged me. He said—"

"I'll call Del Rio." Stu caught the Irishman by his shoulders. "You need to sit down, mate, right? Calm yourself down before you call anyone back home. Annette, there's whiskey somewhere, get him a glass."

"Ah don't need any fuckin' whiskey," Stephen groaned as Annette slipped into the kitchen. "Yeh know what they did to him, Stu? The bastards tortured him! They fuckin' cut off his head!"

Behind him, Stu heard a glass shatter against the hardwood floor as he stared at Stephen in horror. Shoes crunched on the glass and he let his hands fall away when Annette placed a tentative hand on Stephen's arm.

At a loss, he raked a hand through his hair and looked back to see Ted and Cody. Annette's voice, a gentle murmur, urged Stephen towards the living area. Seconds later he heard the front door open and close.

"Ted, get outside and keep an eye out, just in case. He's not in the frame of mind to do so. Cody, clear the glass up then get me a direct video connection with Del Rio and Stephanie." Bracing one hand on the frame of the archway, he closed his eyes.

"What are you going to do?" Cody asked gently.

"I'm going to find out which one of those fucking assholes did this and then I'm going to blow his brains out."

* * *

They hadn't walked very far. Annette had suggested a bit of fresh air might make him calm down, but he remained aware of the fact that they could be struck down. The night air was cool; cooler than the city to be sure, and held a crispness that could never be as perfect as it was in the mountains. If she was cold she didn't let on, though he doubted he would have noticed any signs anyway.

Standing beneath an old oak tree, he leaned against the trunk, staring off into the distance but seeing nothing. He was still stunned by the news. Colin, who had sounded so bright and happy and full of life when they last spoken, now gone. Colin, who was supposed to be getting married soon. _Colin_, who had just gotten a promotion at the company he had worked for nearly ten years, whose future had been filled with promise.

Colin.

His favorite cousin.

He closed his eyes as the pain washed over him anew. He wanted to rant and rave and scream his head off but knew it would do no good. Instead, he slid down until he was sitting on the ground, reaching for a fallen leaf to twist in his fingers. "Fuck," he whispered.

"What was he like?"

Tipping his head back, Stephen felt the rough bark against the back of his head and drew in a deep breath. "He was... We always called him the happy one. He was younger than me, an' Ah remember him always laughin'." He felt a pang in his chest as memories flooded his mind. He would never hear that laugh again. "He's a scrawny thing, but always good for a fight. Bloodied me nose once. We became best friends after that."

The rustle of movement had him glance over to see her sitting down next to him. Silent, she placed a hand on his arm, urging him to continue.

"He's supposed to be gettin' married in a few weeks. To little Mary Duncan. Not so little anymore now. She's been sweet on him since she could walk." His heart ached suddenly. He knew that the Farrelly and Duncan families would rally around the young woman, but doubted she would be handling the news well. "Ah talked to him just the other day."

"How was he?" Annette whispered.

"Brimmin' with happiness. So fuckin' happy. He always was. Nothin' ever got him down." His throat closed up and he squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears came. "Til now."

"I'm so sorry," she murmured.

"Why him? Of all fuckin' people in the world, why the one that's the happiest?"

"I don't know." Her hand slid to rest over his, causing him to cease his anxious twisting of the leaf. "I wish I did."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

The somber air that had settled over all contained within the cottage was still there, growing more and more depressing as each moment passed. Dragging a hand through his hair, Drew pushed back from the desk. Next to him, Cody looked up from his computer. No words were spoken. It seemed none were needed. Drew had no idea what to say. Usually words came quick with him, be it an indecent joke or off-color remark. Now, though, he knew better than to let loose with an inappropriate comment.

"How's Stephen?"

Drew looked up from the pattern of the floor and saw Stu had entered the room. Above the buzz of computers and the thoughts running through his mind, he hadn't heard.

_Christ_, when had Stu begun to look so old, so worn down? Drew was aware his friend suffered from insomnia. More often than not, he had been the one called out of bed to follow one of the Englishman's wild ideas in the middle of the night. But he had never noted the dark circles, nor the fine lines of frustration around the man's eyes.

"I don't know." Stu's answer to Cody's tentative question was soft. "He's still outside, talking with Annette."

"He likes her," Drew said. Then, remembering the looks that had passed between the woman and Stu, he began to backtrack. "I mean, they're friends. Hell, I like her. She's nice, even if she does get on my last nerve." Cody and Stu continued to look at him in disbelief. Sighing, he shrugged and reached for his empty Pepsi can. "Ya know what I mean."

"Right... Want me to go out there with him?" Cody offered. "If he's upset—"

"Ted's still out there with them. I woke Ron and Kofi, they've gone to the roof to keep a lookout, just in case." Stu ran a hand through his hair. "Any word?"

"Stephanie got me a copy of the report from Dublin. There were a few witnesses at the pub Colin was at just before..." Cody cleared his throat and pulled off his glasses, using the hem of his shirt to wipe the lenses clean. "There was a stranger there. American. Going by description, it was Brooks."

Stu nodded, taking the empty chair near the printer. "Did they find..." He waved one hand, and Drew felt his stomach clench at the pain on the man's face.

"His—um, yeah." Cody slipped his glasses back on and rubbed his palms against his thighs. "It was left at his fiancée's front door."

"The fuck? Did she see it?"

"Ah... Yeah." Cody looked everywhere but at Stu's face. Drew knew that he didn't want to be the one to tell Stu how it had been found. "It was wrapped up like a wedding present and she opened it—"

Stu's fist slammed into the desk, causing both Drew and Cody to lurch. "Goddamnit! Why wasn't someone there to keep that from happening?"

Cody glanced to Drew before clearing his throat. "Stu, we couldn't know. When we got the first word—"

"We should know what that bastard's capable of by now," Stu interrupted. He was on his feet again, pacing the small area. "None of this would be happening if it weren't for us."

Drew snorted. "Well... To be honest, it wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for Annette."

The words were out of his mouth before he could censor them. Drew inwardly cringed as silence ensued, regretting the words more than he would ever be able to express. Watching Stu turn to face him, he opened his mouth to retract the statement and was quick to realize that silence would be his best defense. He closed his mouth, taking a step backward.

"You think so, do you?" Stu asked.

"I didn't mean—"

"Save it. I'm not in the mood for that bullshit right now." He turned to Cody. "Try to keep Ste from learning about the present."

* * *

Annette shivered. The cool air was more than a brisk breeze as she continued to sit with Stephen. She still held onto his hand, and when she shivered again he looked to her. The pain was still in his eyes, she saw, and it caused her heart to ache. She doubted the pain would ever go away fully.

"Sorry," he murmured, releasing her hand.

"It's alright." She watched his breath turn to fog, heard his heavy sigh as he boosted himself to his feet. Within seconds he reached for her hand, pulling her up as well. "If you need to talk..." She hesitated when he looked away. "I know it's hard. I can't imagine how hard, but I know it is." Rubbing her arms to generate warmth, she caught a movement out the corner of her eye. Ted. She turned her attention back to Stephen. "Are you going home to be with your family?"

"Ah don't know. It's probably what they want. Ah want to, but..." He glanced over to Ted before finally meeting her gaze again. "Yeh better get inside. Don't want yeh catchin' cold."

It seemed so wrong that he was worried about her comfort in the midst of a family tragedy, but at the same time it felt so right. She doubted he ever stopped worrying over others. Not wanting to leave him, though, she shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Yeh not a very good liar," he sighed. He gave her hand a squeeze and turned towards the cottage.

Without a word, she followed him back inside. The silence that greeted them was unnerving. After just a few hours in the cottage she was used to the steady chatter of male voices, the oddly comforting sound of heavy footfalls. Behind them, Ted closed the door. She pulled her hand free of Stephen's as the other man gently clapped him on the shoulder. Moving further into the living area she heard the crackling of logs in the fireplace.

"Stu's talking to Stephanie," Cody announced softly, alerting her to his presence on the couch.

Annette nodded, glancing back to see Ted guide Stephen into the dining room. Back under the brighter lights, she could see the odd tone his skin had adopted. Though she wasn't usually given to prayer aside from the old rhyme her mother had taught her as a little girl, she began a silent request of peace for the family of the slain young man.

Standing in front of the fire, she warmed her hands, watching the orange flames flicker. When she no longer felt the chill of the outdoors she turned to seat herself on the opposite end of the couch.

"Do they know who did it?" she whispered when Cody glanced up from his laptop. For the first time she saw Ziller's journal resting next to him.

"Yeah." He looked back at his screen. "It was Brooks."

The little warmth the fireplace had provided seeped away at the mention of the man's name. Recalling the blood that Stephen had tracked through Adah Ziller's home, she felt her throat close up. She drew her knees to her chest to ward away the details that she had learned over dinner. How much of the carnage had been recreated with Colin?

"So... I've been working on the journal some more," Cody said after several moments had passed. "She wrote more about the Offering. Which is the height of betrayal and strictly forbidden."

Annette nodded, shifting into a more comfortable position as Cody spoke. She sensed a presence behind her and knew without looking that it was Stephen. When he stepped over to the nearby armchair she followed him with her eyes, heart breaking anew. Ted was right behind him, resting his hand on the man's shoulder before settling in the armchair closest to Cody.

She marveled at the way they all knew it was time to come together. Ted had barely sat down when Stu and Drew came in. Drew leaned down to speak softly to Stephen before dropping onto the couch, Stu moved to stand at the fireplace. She wondered if Ron and Kofi would appear, if anyone had told them of the latest death.

Cody coughed, breaking the silence. "Ziller talked about the Offering. She made sure to mention that speaking about it is forbidden." He paused, gaze lingering on Stephen. "We can go over this in the morning—"

"No." Stephen was shaking his head. "Let's do it now."

Some of the tension in the room eased at his insistence. Annette breathed a bit easier, glancing to Stu. As though sensing her confirmation that things would be alright, he gave her a quick nod.

"Human sacrifice." Ted had the laptop now and Cody was flipping through the journal. Ted's voice was gentle as he spoke.

"Shit," Drew muttered. "A cult of some sort?"

"A religion." Ted's gaze remained on the computer screen. "They'd be insulted to be called a cult, though that's what they are. It's very old and as powerful to its members as the Catholic Church. Not as well-known of course."

"Which makes sense," Cody put in. "They advocate sacrifice and don't have a problem with committing murder. It wouldn't do to let outsiders know about them. It's been passed down through the centuries from father to son and has members all over the world. No new members are accepted unless they're connected by blood to a member."

"Then how did Ziller get into the fold?"

"She's a distant cousin of Jericho. She says that the family ties are weak but he adjusted some to show that she could be allowed membership." Ted rubbed his chin. "They view themselves as the only true religion."

"A religion that makes human sacrifice," Annette muttered.

"Abraham was asked to sacrifice his son," Ted said. "The Aztecs and Mayans used sacrifices regularly. I'm not condoning it, but it's not unusual except in present day."

Cody snorted. "This is present day. And killing children—"

Ted began to shake his head. "According to Adah, they rarely sacrifice children now. They used to do it in early days because they were more easily obtained. Parents were pressured to offer their children to gain status and secure their place in paradise. She said sacrifices were chosen from lists of candidates submitted by members."

"There's only one offering a year, and members are urged to submit the name of a person they want sacrificed. It's a mark of respect if their submission is chosen." Cody flipped a page and reached for his notebook and pen.

"Who do they submit?" Stu asked.

"An enemy, a business rival, a member of the family." Ted sighed. "The family member is considered the purest of all sacrifices. It gives instant status. Jericho submitted his mother as a candidate. Her death won him the position of Guardian of the Offering."

Annette was shocked. A man so callous he would put his mother on the altar and take her life. Then, thinking of Marie's death, and now Colin's, she knew it wasn't that much of a shock after all. "Exactly what is a Guardian?"

"Sort of a guard of honor at the Offerings. He's custodian of priceless and holy artifacts and presides at the sacrifices." Cody's lips twisted. "She admired his strength of will and his sexual techniques. She envied his star status in the Offerings. He was her kind of man."

"You mean she watched him kill and got off on it." Stu shook his head.

"She got off on the power. But she might have been content to obey the rules if Brooks hadn't offered a new golden ladder to climb."

"I take it they met at an Offering?"

"Yes, or he'd have ended up on the altar. The ceremony and religion itself are top secret."

"And I'm scheduled to be a sacrifice at this Offering?" Annette whispered.

"I don't know. She didn't mention you. She's self-absorbed and evidently you didn't enter into any of her plans."

"I can't think of any other reason why Jericho would want to wait to kill me."

"First of April," Ted stated, realization in his voice. "That's the traditional day of the Offering."

"What sort of holy artifacts is Jericho in control of?" Stu asked suddenly. Annette was grateful for the question, not liking the looks of sympathy sent her by Ted and Cody.

"Things that are pertinent to them. A priceless artifact. Hadar's Tablet for one."

"What the hell is that?" Stephen asked. The first time he'd spoken since insisting they go over the journal.

"Hadar was the founder of the religion. He was a scribe and an artist. The tablet supposedly describes his journey from Jerusalem and his philosophies. He's looked upon as a great prophet."

"Supposedly? Don't they know what's in the tablet?"

Ted shook his head. "There are rumors about it that have been handed down, but Hadar commanded that no one open the golden box where he'd placed the tablet. It was forbidden to see the light of day after his death. It was in a special cabinet of honor in the Offering room."

Annette latched onto one particular word. "'Was?' As in it isn't there anymore?"

"Right now it's in the vault of a bank in Zurich."

"The pouch of keys," Annette murmured, turning to Stephen to see if he recalled what they'd found. "Could they be for her account there?"

Stu pushed away from the mantle. "They're in my room. I'll get them."

"Orton referred to ya as a blasphemer," Drew said, lightly touching Annette's arm. "'Blasphemers must pay for their sins.'"

"But how have I blasphemed?" Annette struggled to think of every little thing she had done since her plane had landed in Paris. "All I've done is my job at the museum, cataloging artwork and..." She blinked. "Could they view me as a blasphemer because I know of the painting? That's ridiculous. It's not as though I painted it, or even know whose face is in the damned thing. But I'm supposed to have blasphemed against their great holy man?"

"I don't think your crime was against Hadar." Ted leaned close to the laptop.

"Who else? You said he was the founder of their cult – I'm sorry, religion." Annette ran a hand through her hair, growing frustrated with each unanswered question that came up. "You said his tablet was priceless."

"The tablet is valuable and held in reverence, but it isn't priceless."

"What are you talking about, then? What is the priceless artifact?"

"Adah talks about rumors that have been handed down about what was in Hadar's tablet. He was supposed to have knowledge about a very special treasure." Cody paused, his eyes still on the journal. "A handful of ancient coins."

Annette stiffened, thinking of the two coins Stephen had discovered. "Go on."

"Do you know to what deity they make their sacrifices?"

"Satan?"

"No. Their religion is dedicated to the glorification and redemption of the man who they sits at God's side, who is beloved by all the angels of heaven." Cody met her gaze. "Her words."

Bewildered, Annette lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Jesus?"

"No," Ted said softly. "Judas."

"Judas," Annette whispered. "Incredible." Perhaps it wasn't, really. Why was she surprised that a religion that lauded death and murder would also worship the most well-known betrayer the world had ever known?

"Satan would have been my guess," Stephen said. "A religion that worships power would more likely choose the devil himself than a mere traitor."

"At the moment I don't care why he was elected to sainthood by these monsters. I need to know why Jericho wants to kill me and how we can stop him."

"If it was Judas in the paintin' then yeh can see how fanatics would react. The paintin' showed him bein' tormented by guilt."

"Judas had no guilt in the crucifixion of Christ, according to their religion. He was just obeying the wishes of God in the betrayal. Jesus was destined to die on the cross, and someone had to hand him over to the soldiers. So Judas sacrificed himself and his place among the disciples to further the will of God." Ted's voice remained gentle.

"Is that what Hadar said in the tablet?" Drew asked.

"How do I know? Adah said there were other Hadar tablets and teachings handed down over the centuries that weren't on the forbidden list. That's their doctrine."

Annette shook her head. "This handful of coins. Is it what I'm thinking it is?"

"The pouch of coins that the priests paid Judas for betraying Jesus." Ted pushed the laptop onto the low table in front of the couch. "I'd say that would be priceless. It would electrify the Christian world to be sure. The ultimate symbol of the ultimate betrayal."

"Or the proof that the greatest miracle really happened," Annette whispered. The idea of the coins still existing stunned her. "Providing there's documentation and proof."

"Brooks has been searching for the coins for years, according to Adah. It's an obsession of his. He's gone over all of Hadar's teachings and traveled the world investigating every bit of information he could find that had anything to do with the Judas coins." Cody stood to stretch, tossing the journal onto the couch. "Adah thought it was worth latching onto. She was willing to go behind Jericho and risk his killing her to find the coins."

"The coins we found. Are they part of the Judas coins?" Stephen asked, leaning forward in his seat.

Ted shook his head. "She bought those on the internet. She left them around where Brooks could see them, to remind him of who was in charge between them. It was a kind of test. She actually loved Brooks."

"Having sex with Jericho on a regular basis, getting her kicks with Brooks, and living with Levesque. It just screams true love." Annette rolled her eyes. The more she heard of the woman, the less she liked her. Manipulative, narcissistic,

"All the men in her life, and she never loved any of them. But Brooks touched something in her. She wouldn't believe that he would betray her."

Stephen released a harsh breath. "She believed it in that last moment."

"Ryan's on his way to get the keys," Stu announced as he came downstairs. He tossed the pouch onto the table. "Del Rio has someone in mind to get into the vault posing as Ziller."

"April?" Cody guessed.

"Right. She'll bring it to us for translation as soon as she has it in her hands."

"Ah'm goin' to call home." Stephen got to his feet. "Cody and Ted can fill yeh in on the rest."

"I'll set up the connection," Drew offered, already standing.

Annette felt Stu's gaze on her and shifted to look at him as the two men left the room. Sensing he wanted her gone, she stood and made her way upstairs. She had changed into pajamas and was brushing her hair when Stu's edict that she never be left alone in a room came to mind. The stairs creaked as she went down. Pausing to peer into the living room she saw Stu on the couch, leaning in close as Cody indicated something in his notebook. At a loss, she turned and headed in the direction Drew and Stephen had gone.

Drew was at one of the computers, headset on, his fingers flying over the keyboard. She hesitated before entering the room fully and eased the door shut behind her. Stephen paused his pacing and looked up. One corner of his mouth lifted in a brief smile before it faded away.

"I wasn't needed and I'm not ready to go up to bed just yet," she explained. "If you want me to go—"

"No, yer fine." He raked a hand through his hair.

Noting the spikes that were left in his hand's wake, she hugged herself to refrain from reaching to smooth it back into place. She moved to sit in one of the computer chairs, not wanting to be in the way. A sheaf of printouts lay on the desk to her side. A cursory glance told her it was part of Adah Ziller's journal translation. She picked it up and began to read, soon immersed in the sordid autobiography.

Stephen's gentle voice invaded her thoughts as she flipped through the pages. Pulling her attention from the description of the first sacrifice the dead woman had witnessed, she looked to the Irishman. He sat, one arm braced on the desk, rapidly clicking an ink pen as he spoke.

"Do yeh want me to come up?" The pen continued to click as he waited for an answer. "No, Ah'm not in Paris right now. Ah've got a case goin' on but Ah can leave if yeh need me." He dropped the pen and ran his hand over his face, his expression weary. "Yeh sure?"

Annette straightened the printouts and placed them on the desk, prepared to leave him so he could have his conversation in private. Even if he had said it was fine, she found it hard to believe he would want anyone around at such a depressing moment. She was halfway across the door when she heard him say something in Irish, then heard the headset clatter on the desk. Glancing back, she saw him lean forward, his shoulders rounded as he rubbed his face.

She walked back to him. Having no idea what she could do or say to ease the pain, she rested her hands on his shoulders. She recalled her first night with these strangers, when he had comforted her after learning of Marie's death. He'd been a rock for her that night. She had clung to him, needing the steadiness he'd possessed. Doubting she was strong enough to do the same for him she tried just the same.

"Do you need anything?" she asked softly, knowing before he did so that he would shake his head. "Maybe you should try to get some sleep?"

"Ah'm not tired," he sighed. He stood and she let her hands fall, tilting her head back to stare up at him. He towered over her, still every ounce an intimidating figure. She saw a flash of anger in his eyes and knew that Brooks would pay dearly for what he had done to Colin.

"Still, you need rest," she insisted. Again she was channeling her mother. If food didn't help, rest did.

"Usually yer the one gettin' that advice." His chuckle was mirthless, but the hand that cupped her face was warm.

"It's good advice. No one would blame you for wanting to be alone right now, Stephen. I know you're holding up well but..." She shrugged, embracing him. It seemed the natural thing to do and when his arms circled her she felt rather than heard his sigh. "You don't have to be strong all the time."

"Ah have to be right now, or Ah'll do somethin' stupid. Which would compromise the case and Ah'd never forgive myself if I did that." He released her, catching her arms before she could draw away. "Yer a special woman, Annette," he murmured. "Ah wish..."

Annette opened her mouth to assure him that he, too, was special. Meeting his eyes, she pressed her lips together and remained silent. Her fingers curled in the front of his shirt. When he dipped his head she knew she should pull away but was powerless to do so. His lips met hers gently, tentatively, and she didn't have the heart to push him away. Instead, she held on, allowing herself to be drawn in by his tenderness.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I did. **

**Thank you to Blackhat, Malabrigo, Amber, Jojo, charmedbyortonbarrett, ThatGirl54, prettybaby69, and NikkiWasteland for the amazing reviews! Y'all are so wonderful to me. I say it a lot but it's true: I have the best readers ever! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Stephen raised one hand, gently cupping Annette's cheeks as his lips slid over hers. He couldn't help being surprised that she wasn't pulling away. Even as she clutched the front of his shirt and stepped closer to him, his thoughts focused on why. Pity? Attraction? Was she parting her lips so he wouldn't feel the sting of rejection after being dealt a heavy blow earlier in the evening? Then came the startling realization: he didn't care either way. Whatever her reasoning, he was determined to enjoy the moment. To savor her taste as long as he could.

"Ah'm sorry," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. Unable to resist, he kissed the corner of her mouth. "Ah shouldn't have—"

"Don't." She flattened her hand over his chest, undoubtedly able to feel the pounding of his heart. "Don't apologize."

Sighing with relief, he placed another kiss on her lips. The whys weren't important right now, he decided. There were more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. "Ah better go find Stu. He has a plan already ah'm sure. And we have to get ready for someone else coming in."

They were silent for a moment before she leaned up to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. "If you need to talk, I'm here for you."

"Ah'll know where to find yeh," he promised. Without thinking, he blurted, "Unless yeh busy."

Her eyes widened, cheeks flushing. "Oh. I... Well... No, I don't think I'll be busy." She was flustered and it was his fault. He opened his mouth to apologize yet again but she shook her head. "I guess it's no secret. But no, I won't be busy later if you need me."

"Ah didn't mean—" Stephen dropped his hands when she stepped away. "It's none of my business."

The door opened and Drew peeked in. Annette seized the chance and whispered a quick goodbye, slipping past to make her escape. Drew's smile was tentative as he entered the room.

"Ya alright, Ste?"

"Ah'm fine." He had a feeling he would be saying it for the rest of his life. "Where's Stu?"

"Talking with Cody and Ted about the journal. When are ya leaving?"

Stephen shook his head, eyes still on the door. "Ah'm not. Dad said he'd rather Ah stay here, where it's safe."

"He knows, then."

It wasn't a question. Stephen dragged a hand down his face as Drew moved to the computer. "Has Stu set up a call home for Annette?" he asked, hoping to change the subject away from himself.

"Not yet. Want me to do that now?"

"If yeh can." He glanced at his watch. "It's what, six there? Try to set it up within an hour or so."

"On it." Drew turned in his chair. "If ya need anything..." He gave a shrug.

A semblance of a smile touched his lips. "Ah will."

When he found Stu, his old friend was at the fireplace. Stephen hesitated before moving to stand next to him. He knew the man found solace in the flickering flames. Feeling the warmth seep into his skin, he let a few moments pass before speaking.

"Ah'll take that whiskey now."

Within minutes they were in the kitchen, each on a stool on opposite sides of the small bar. Stephen watched the liquid splash into his glass before raising it to his lips. As he did so, he closed his eyes, remembering another time they had been positioned such. Not in the same house, but Stu's austere apartment. For the same reason. Setting the glass down, he sighed and looked to his friend.

"How'd yeh handle it?" he asked.

Stu glanced down at his own glass, which was still empty. "I don't know." He finally poured some whiskey for himself and took a sip. "Buried myself in work mostly, I think. Went on a spree of fucking any woman that would look my way."

"Yeh did that before it happened," Stephen reminded. "And yeh still doin' it now."

"Not to the same degree. Stephanie forces me to take days off now and then." Stu tilted his head. "Figured it out, did you?"

"Wasn't hard." Stephen reached for the bottle.

"There's no reason to hide it, anyway. As long as Jericho doesn't catch wind of it."

"Yeh still think he had somethin' to do wit' Leigh?"

"She worked for him once, remember? God only knows what kind of hold he had over her." Stu drained his glass in one gulp before reaching for the bottle. "She never talked about him. I now know why but it killed me then."

"What happened that day?" Stephen turned the glass in his hand. "Ah know yeh said she was arguin' wit' yeh, but..."

Stu let out a sigh. "It was so fucking stupid, mate. I knew Hawkins was there. He knew we somehow that were going to be getting on a plane. She kept going on about wanting to call her mother. Not because we were leaving the country and she wouldn't see her for a while. She wanted to make sure her dog would be taken care of. You remember that snappy little sonofabitch." He plunked his glass down and rubbed the back of his neck. "I thought it was the stupidest thing to be worried about. We had a plane to catch, and... Then she told me she wanted a divorce when we got back."

Nodding, Stephen took another sip of his drink. "What then?"

"She ran off. I was stunned. She obviously knew that saying that would catch me off guard and used it to her advantage. The last I saw of her alive she was running away from me."

"Do yeh feel guilty?"

"Yes. No. Both." A mirthless chuckle punctuated by more whiskey splashing into a glass. "At first there was nothing but guilt. Why didn't I protect her better, why didn't I catch her before she got away." He looked up and Stephen caught the sadness in his eyes. It was brief, gone before he could register it really, but it was there. "Then I got mad. I found out about the other men. And I'd told her over and over what would happen if he got his hands on her." The glass slammed down on the counter. "She wouldn't fucking listen. And look what happened. Part of me doesn't feel sorry for her anymore."

"She was yer wife—"

"Spoiled, self-centered bitch is what she was. She was no better than that Ziller woman."

"Right," Stephen murmured. He couldn't remember much about Stu's wife, aside from a few brief meetings. "Ah talked to me dad."

"Are you leaving tonight?"

Stephen finished his drink before shaking his head. "No. Ah'm not goin'."

"He told you to stay." Stu nodded, reaching for the cap of the bottle. "Smart man."

"If Ah go there's a chance one of them could follow me back after the funeral." He refused to let that happen. He refused to let anything get in the way of a peaceful end to the case. Peaceful for Annette, at least. "How are things in the States?"

"Still calm last I heard."

"Ah told Drew to set up a call home for Annette."

"You think she's going to die don't you?"

"No," Stephen groaned, rising to carry his glass to the sink. He reached to open the curtain, glancing out the small window as water drummed from the faucet. "Ah just know she's worried. Yeh haven't noticed that?"

"Of course I have. But we can't drop everything at the drop of a hat for her, mate." The stool scraped back then Stu was on his feet. "You're going to spoil her."

"She's not a puppy." Despite his mood Stephen chuckled. Things would go on. The sun would rise on another day. There would always be that small piece missing due to Colin's death but he would carry on.

"You hear that?" Stu asked, just as something outside caught Stephen's attention. A bright flash of light, and he was certain the ground shook beneath them.

"Down," they said simultaneously.

Stephen felt a hand grab his arm as they both went to the floor. He felt rather than heard the explosion, managing to shield his head as glass rained down on him. As darkness threatened to take over he shook it away, starting to crawl towards the door.

"Get her out of here," Stu called before another flash illuminated the room.

* * *

**A/N: Short chapter is short! O_O**

**Thank you to prettybaby69, Blackhat, Nikki, ThatGirl54, Amber, Dana, charmedbyortonbarrett, Anon, Jojo, Agnesita1385, and Lou for the wonderful reviews. I love that everyone's reaction was "OMG" haha. Also an extra thank-you to Lou for reading the entire story in a day. That takes commitment. ;) Love you all! **


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

When the first blast came, she was upstairs talking to Drew about the upcoming call to her parents. A strange noise, then he caught her against him, shielding her as he pushed her to the floor. Feeling the house rock, she held her breath.

This was it. She would die. She kept her head down while rubble fell around her. The house rocked again and she knew death was on its way. She could almost feel its clawed fingers wrapping around her arms.

"Ye alright?" Drew asked.

No, it was just Drew. His hands on her arms, then her legs, obviously feeling for broken bones. She opened her eyes and instantly regretted it, the dust burning them.

"Stu, and Stephen," she choked out. Where were they? And the others, were they safe?

"Are ye alright?" he persisted. She nodded and then he rolled her over.

A trickle of blood trailed down his neck from his ear, and she watched it make a dark line through the dust on his skin. "Are you?"

"I'll live. Come on, we have to get out of here." He stood, debris rustling around them as he helped her to her feet.

"What was that?" she whispered.

"Probably a SMAW. Which means they're out there to make sure it did its job."

"How did they find us?" She doubted he knew but the question was forefront in her mind. That and making sure the others were okay. Coughing, she tried her best to shield her nose and mouth with her shirt as they picked their way to the stairs.

"I don't know." He grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "Stay behind me, alright? Let me go first."

Annette nodded, starting to shiver with fear. She could hear voices; downstairs or outside she couldn't be sure. As they neared the stairs she began to feel an intense heat and her heart pounded nervously.

"Stairs are gone," Drew said. His voice was tinged with awe.

"Then what do we—"

"Drew?"

Stephen's voice. Annette began to thank God profusely as she heard him call Drew's name again.

"We're right here," Drew called down from what had once been the top of the stairs.

Annette moved to stand next to Drew. Just able to pick out Stephen's figure through the dust and smoke, she searched for a sign of Stu and felt her heart clench when there was none. "Drew, how are we going to get down?"

"Ye gonna have to jump."

She looked from Stephen to the flickering flames covering what had once been the stairs then to Drew. "Can't we jump out of a window?"

"Come on. Ste, ye alright?"

"Ah'm fine." He stepped closer and she saw his face clearly before a curl of smoke concealed him again.

"Hurry up, Annette." Stu's voice floated through the dust and smoke and then he was there, next to Stephen. She saw blood on his face and began to worry as he spoke to Stephen. "We have to go. Now."

"But—" What if she wasn't caught? What if she jumped into the fire by accident? What if they were truly hurt and her landing in either of their arms caused more injury.

She cried out when Drew placed his hands on her waist. His voice was slightly panicked as he spoke in her ear. "On the count of three, right?"

Giving a shaky nod, she watched both men below move forward. She heard Stephen tell Stu that he would catch her just as Drew began to count. Glancing to the flames again, she saw them licking their way up the wall, causing the floral wallpaper to blacken and curl.

"Three," Drew said, hands leaving her. She jumped, eyes closing as the intense heat grew to her left.

She landed against a wall of steel. It was only when a pair of arms circled her that she realized it was Stephen. Pressing her face to his chest as he turned her away from the fire she held on, her legs shaky.

"Ah've got yeh," he murmured.

"Are you alright?" Stu demanded, hand on her shoulder. He seemed appeased when she nodded, letting Stephen hold her as he turned away to cough.

"Better check on Ron," Stephen said. "Cody and Ted are saving what they can in the office."

"Drew," Annette blurted. "He needs to get down."

"Already am," Drew said. "Weren't Kofi and Ron on the roof?"

"I'll go out back and see if they've gotten down. Ste, get her out through the cellar."

Annette expected him to ask again if she was alright, to show some of the tenderness she knew he possessed, but he was already gone. Holding onto Stephen's biceps she gingerly placed her feet on the floor.

"Yeh not wearin' shoes," Stephen muttered. He swung her up, cradling her in his arms. "There's a packed case in the cellar, yeh can get dressed before we go out through the tunnel."

"The tunnel?" she repeated, ducking her head when he carried her past the fire.

"It was built during the second World War. The original owner of the house helped Jews escape the Nazis." The arm around her shoulders tightened, pulling her in closer to his chest. "Hold on."

She did as told, clutching handfuls of his shirt as she felt him shift. She felt the impact as his foot met a door and tensed, expecting the walls to cave in around them. Instead, she heard hinges squeak, then his rapid footfalls as he descended a set of stairs.

"Thank God yeh alright," he whispered, setting her upright. His arm stayed around her shoulders, other hand reaching to cup the back of her head. His touch was gentle and when his thumb slipped over her cheek she realized she was crying. He muttered something in Irish, the words rolling off his tongue just before his lips met hers.

It was quick, chaste, and made her realize how much he'd worried about her. His lips then moved to her forehead, pulling her into him. He smelled strange; a mixture of dust, smoke, and whiskey that was somehow more comforting than anything else she could imagine. "You really need to stop doing that," she murmured, still holding onto him even though her knees no longer threatened to buckle.

"Ah will when yeh stop wantin' me to." Another quick kiss, then he was pulling away as feet sounded on the stairs. "Let's get ready."

* * *

"How the fuck did they find us?" Stu demanded as he held a cloth over his mouth and nose. He could barely see through the smoke and dust, following the sounds of Ted and Cody gathering what they could. After making sure Ron and Kofi were alright, he had gotten back inside to make sure everyone got out through the cellar. Each moment that passed only caused his anger to grow. "Not even Del Rio know where we are. How the fuck did that bastard learn about this place?"

"I don't know," Cody insisted. "I haven't talked to anyone but Stephanie and Del Rio since we got here."

"Someone has to be..." Stu turned, pushing Ted against the nearest wall. "You."

"What?" Ted coughed as Stu pressed his arm across his throat. "Come on, man!"

Stu dropped the cloth, eyes narrowing. "No, it's all clear now. You showed up all of a sudden last year. Cody's best friend from school. Not so much as a speeding ticket on your record." In seconds he had his gun out, aimed straight for the man's head. "Now you're in the middle of our biggest case? Why?"

"Stu, don't!" Cody dropped the box he held and moved forward. "He's my best friend, I swear! I know him—"

"Don't take another step," Stu warned. Eyes never leaving Ted's, he pressed his arm tighter against his throat. "You're always hovering about. They didn't start finding us until you tagged along."

"They weren't supposed to hit the house," Ted gasped, eyes closing. "They were going to blast the outbuilding to get everyone away from her."

Shocked, Stu felt his grip on the gun waver. He had been speaking out of anger, the circumstances causing him to suspect nearly everyone. And had he been right, he never would have expected the man to admit to it so quickly. Though he supposed faced with a gun anyone would do the same. His shock was soon replaced with a blistering rage, and he pressed the muzzle of the gun into Ted's forehead. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

Ted visibly gulped, holding his hands up in surrender. "I can tell you what they have planned."

"And I should fucking trust you? You almost had all of us killed!"

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this!"

"Stu, please," Cody choked out. Whether from lack or air or emotion Stu wasn't sure. He felt a hand on his arm and his grip on the gun tightened. "We'll take him with us."

"Bullshit." Stu slid his finger to the trigger. "If we do, they'll find us again." He leveled his gaze, ignoring the burning of his eyes. "How do they know where you are?"

"M-my phone," Ted whispered.

"I give you one chance to step out of line between here and the next stop. If you do, I'll kill you. Cody, get his phone, and leave it here. Where the fuck is Drew?"

"Downstairs I think." Cody stepped forward, expression wary. "Ron and Kofi are alright aren't they?"

"Yeah, they've gone down. I spoke to Stephanie, she'll have cars waiting for us." Stu eased his hold on the gun, eyes never leaving Ted's face. Still unable to believe they had been duped – and by Cody's best friend, no less – he could think of nothing to say. The desire to kill him was still strong, but Annette's safety was still his main concern. When the phone was in his hand he looked down at the screen. As he did a message popped up and he opened it, smirking as he read the words. "They think you're dead. Did you double-cross them, too?"

"We can go over this when we get to... Wherever we're going, right?" Cody asked. "He won't run."

"If he does, I'll kill him," Stu threatened, pushing away from Ted with disgust. "And when we get there, you're telling me everything you know."

* * *

Drew hissed in pain as the alcohol-soaked gauze was applied to his wound. "Jesus Christ!"

"Calm down," Annette murmured. Drew saw her hands tremble as she continued to clean the gash in the side of his neck. "Sorry," she whispered, taking a deep breath then blowing cool air over the stinging area. "I know it hurts."

"It'll hurt worse if I don't let ye clean it." Drew balled one hand into a fist, grateful Stephen was preoccupied and wouldn't see him in pain.

"Do you really think Ted..." She shook her head, dropping the used gauze on the floor. He heard her rattling through the first-aid kit. Within seconds he felt something cool lying against the wound. "Stu looked so angry."

Drew nodded. Stu, Cody, and Ted were already on their way through the tunnel. Ostensibly to make sure the way was clear, but Drew knew it was so he could question the most recent addition to their team. At the top of the stairs were Kofi and Ron, keeping a lookout while Annette saw to his injury. "He doesn't like people who lie."

"Did you... I suppose it's none of my business," she murmured, lifting the cool compress. "I don't think you'll need stitches and there's no more bleeding."

"Considering we're all determined to keep ye alive, I'd say it's ye business." Continuing to keep his hair out of the way, he waited as she placed a large bandage on his neck. When she was finished, he straightened up, sending her a quick smile. "Thanks."

"I just never would have thought—" Annette looked up at the sound of gunfire.

Drew was already on his feet, pushing her behind him. He cursed when he heard bullets piercing wood. Within seconds Ron and Kofi were backing down the stairs. "The door," he told Stephen, catching the gun that was thrown in his direction. "It doesn't close from the other side."

"We can all get out. Ah have the blast ready." Stephen ducked behind a crate that Drew knew was empty. "Go!"

"I'm not leaving ye behind," Drew insisted.

"I've got her," Kofi shouted above the sound of bullets continuing to pierce the wood door.

Drew was well aware it wouldn't hold for much longer. Closing his eyes as it finally split open, allowing someone to move down the stairs, he saw Ron and Kofi diving into the tunnel. Stephen was backing towards the entrance. Firing blindly at the gunman coming towards them, he felt a burning pain in his leg just as a female scream sounded from inside the tunnel.

"Go," he told Stephen, who had started to move towards him. The pain was blinding as he leaned against a support beam. Glancing down, he saw the blood gushing from the wound on his thigh. An artery. The bastard had gotten his artery. "Make sure she gets out of here."

"Drew—" Stephen raised his gun, firing one shot at the man coming towards them.

He didn't blink as the side of the man's head blew apart, eyes following the body as it fell to the cement floor. "Ye have to get out of here," he said, gaze moving to the stairs. "Ye love her. I know ye do."

"Ah'm not leavin' yeh—"

"Goddamnit, for once let me do something honorable. I'm going to die anyway!" Drew used all his strength to push Stephen towards the entrance to the tunnel, slumping down to the floor after he'd done so. Using the last bit of strength, he leaned to push the door closed, ignoring the shouts from the other side. "Move, ye bastard!"

Grimacing with the effort as he felt himself grow weak, Drew knew he was almost out of time as he slid over closer to the case of dynamite Stephen had prepared. The footsteps on the stairs were slow, methodical. He looked up and saw a familiar face.

"This asshole again," he muttered, sending up a quick prayer for his soul. Aiming the gun at the case, he met the piercing blue eyes of Randy Orton. "See ye in Hell," he taunted before pulling the trigger.

**A/N: Thank you Lou, Amber, ThatGirl54, Nikki, Blackhat, and Jojo for the fabulous reviews. Love you all! **


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Annette was crying.

In the chaos of the moment, all Stu could focus on was the fact that she was crying. She attempted to mask the sounds but they came through. Not the gentle sobs that he had heard over the past days when her emotions got the better of her. He decided he preferred those to the sniffles. Each one upset him more and more. He knew it was because he could do nothing to ease her pain at the moment.

Just as he could do nothing to ease Stephen's. Or Cody's. Even Ted, who had turned out to be a traitor, was hurting over Drew's death.

He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to calm his frazzled nerves. Ted walked ahead of him. He followed the bouncing beam of Stu's flashlight, wrists cuffed behind his back. Stu was taking no chances; for all he knew Jericho's men were lying in wait at the end of the tunnel. If so, he was more than willing to let Ted take the first bullet.

"Almost there." Stephen's voice was gentle and Stu knew he was trying to calm Annette.

"Ted and I will go first," Stu announced, switching off the flashlight when he saw the exit up ahead. Feeling as though the walls were closing in on him, he pushed Ted to the side and felt along the edge of the door for the button that would cause the thick cement to slide open. The chamber on the other side appeared to be a damp cave to anyone who ventured inside, leading to a crevice in the side of the mountain. Stu was expecting a car to be waiting for them. By the time they got out, the delivery would be over with, the rattly truck rumbling back to the nearest farm. Ted's arm tensed when Stu grabbed it to push him out first. Stress, shock, and anger caused the Englishman to growl, "I know you're not afraid. Go. Unless you know they're waiting for us."

The glow of Kofi's flashlight illuminated Ted's face. He shook his head, turning sideways to go through the door.

"Ah don't trust him at all," Stephen muttered under his breath.

"Neither do I, but what choice do we have?"

The chamber had a low ceiling, causing the men to stoop as they neared the crevice. Stu had to nearly lie down on the rough floor to peek out, eyes narrowing when he saw red lights moving in the distance. He could tell they were the taillights of a vehicle leaving and shifted his gaze to the ground below. Squinting, he muttered a curse and rolled to his feet. "They're out there."

"Yeh kiddin'." Stephen moved so Annette was behind him and aimed his flashlight at Ted. "Ah wonder how they knew?"

Stu whirled around. For the second time within an hour he aimed his gun directly at Ted. "You," he growled between clenched teeth. "You told them?"

Ted backed up against the far way, perspiration beading on his forehead. "I didn't have a choice."

Stu approached him, left hand balling into a fist. "You're going to tell me every safe house they know of. Now."

Ted's scoff was nervous. "You'd believe me?"

"Either you tell me so I can kill you later, or you get thrown out there where they can kill you." Stu's thumb released the safety on his gun. "Your choice."

"What do you want to know?"

Stu's fist shot out, connecting sharply with Ted's jaw. He felt the bone crack beneath his fingers and followed through with the punch until the side of the man's face was pressed to the rocky wall. "The safe houses, you bastard. How many do they know of?"

"All of them," Ted gasped, eyes squeezing shut. "London. Three in Paris. Rome. Hamburg."

"And?" Stu demanded, dropping his hand to his side. There were two more, two that Ted hadn't mentioned. Perhaps... When the man remained silent, he swiveled the gun in his grasp and slammed it into the broken jaw. "Where else?"

"New York." Ted shifted to look at Stu, blood trickling from his mouth. He parted his lips to speak again then leaned over to spit. The sickening sound of a tooth hitting rock echoed in the small space. When he straightened, his eyes were glassy with pain. "The apartment in New York City, and the old farm house in Ossining."

"What else do they know?"

"How many are on the team. Family members' addresses. Where you all live."

"Do they know we have the diary?" Stu questioned, gun once more aimed at Ted's face. He was on the verge of praying the man would give him a reason to shoot. When no answer was immediately forthcoming he pushed the muzzle against Ted's jaw.

"No!" Ted cried. "They didn't know it existed. I didn't know what was inside it until Cody started translating. There hasn't been time for me to tell them."

"One more question. Whose idea was it for you to become a spy for that sorry bastard?"

"His." Tears spilled onto Ted's cheeks but Stu was immune to the show of emotion. "He learned that I went to school with Cody."

"When this is all over, I am personally blowing your brains out," Stu informed coldly. "The only reason I'm letting you live is to find out all they know. But trust me, you're going to die." For good measure he slammed his fist into his jaw again, stepping back as the man slumped to his knees. Shaking out his fingers, he turned to the others. "Kofi, Ron, you're with me. We'll try to clean out whoever we can. Ste, you stay here."

As he expected, Stephen began to shake his head. "Ah'm goin' with yeh."

"Handcuffed and almost passed out, I don't trust this bastard with her." Stu moved closer to his friend, dropping his voice as Ron and Kofi moved to the opening. "You're my best man, Ste. I can't lose you."

"Yeh better not get killed out there." Stephen clapped a hand on Stu's shoulder. "Ah'll never forgive yeh if yeh do."

"Got it." Stu removed the pack from his shoulder, digging inside to gather more ammunition. He then handed the pack over to Stephen. They shared a look, then both nodded. It was as close as either would come to showing any sort of emotion towards the other. "If I don't come back—"

"Don't say it," Stephen warned. "Is the car out there?"

"Yes. If they spot it, we'll have to hike out."

Stephen nodded. His attention turned to Ted.

"He shouldn't be any trouble," Stu promised, turning to join Ron and Kofi. Belatedly he thought of Annette and turned back, reaching for her. She didn't step into his embrace immediately and he raised an eyebrow, searching her face. Confused when he saw the look of horror on her features, he stepped towards her. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, looking down to avoid his gaze as she finally let him pull her close. "Be safe out there," she whispered.

"I will. Don't even think of looking outside until Ste says you can." Realizing she wasn't going to lift her head so he could steal a kiss, he settled for pressing his lips to the top of her head. He would ask why later. "Don't worry, my dear. We'll get you out of this."

"I know." She tightened her arms around him briefly then backed away, rubbing her arms as she looked at the floor. He regarded her for several seconds and then she was looking up, tears shimmering in her eyes. He stepped forward, intent on getting his kiss, but turned at the last second when he heard the ping of a bullet against rock.

"They spotted us," Ron called out. "I'm going down."

Mind on the task at hand, Stu slipped his gun into the waistband of his jeans and walked over to the entrance. He watched Ron slide out, holding on with one hand so he could shoot at those firing at him. As soon as it was clear, he rolled out, barely feeling the sting of the rough stones scraping his arms as he slid to the ground. The conveniently located bush gave them little cover but it was enough as he waited for Kofi to join them. "Spread out. Keep moving. Keep an eye on the cave; if any of them start going to it, kill them."

* * *

"I'm going to die tonight, aren't I?" Annette whispered. Hugging her knees, she felt hot tears trickle down her cheeks. She could hear gunfire in the distance. Each time it ceased she feared the worst; each time it resumed she was almost relieved. If they were shooting, they weren't dead. In the near-darkness she could make out Ted's form, still slumped against the far wall. Since the other three had left, there had been no sound from him aside from a wheezing breath.

"Yeh not goin' to die," Stephen promised.

"They blew up the house," she hissed, not pulling away when he began to wipe away her tears. "They're not going to stop." Leaning into him, she realized how little she had lived. The most exciting thing she had done was move to Paris. Until she had met them, of course. "I'm going to die. I can't die before I get engaged."

Stephen's thumbs ceased their movements over her cheeks. "Yeh can't?"

"No. There's so much I have to do. I had my life planned, you know, before you two rolled into my life with guns and car chases. Work in Paris for a year. Get a job at the Louvre. Work there for two years then go back to America, to the Met. Once settled in there I'd start looking for love. Find the perfect man, get engaged, have a beautiful wedding. Then live happily ever after."

In the faint light she saw his slight smile. "Yeh have it all planned, then?"

"Well, I did." Self-pity took over and her tears started anew. "Now I'm going to die without accomplishing any of it."

He sighed; there was no way he'd get into her head that she wasn't going to die. Not now, when she'd seen so much death. Not when she'd come so close to it herself more than once. His heart broke for her yet again. "And gettin' engaged is at the top of the list?"

"Right now it is." She sniffled then laughed. "I know it's silly, but – What are you doing?"

The ground was damp with cold dew and within seconds his jeans were soaked but he didn't care. Stephen caught both her hands in his. If this was something she needed to happen, he would do it. As his thumbs brushed the backs of her hands he realized he would do anything to ease her worries. "Annette... What's yer middle name again?"

"Grace." She stared down at him. "Stephen, you don't—"

"Yes, Ah do." Clearing his throat, he met her gaze. The look of disbelief on her face was priceless. And when he saw the flicker of a smile the words came easily. "Annette Grace Jacobs, when all this is over, will yeh do me the greatest of honors? Life doesn't always go as planned, we both know that. But if yer at my side Ah know we can make it. What d'yeh say, Annette? Will yeh marry me?"

"Oh, Stephen..." She looked to the entrance when the gunfire ceased. He saw a tear roll down her cheek, then her eyes were on him again. "Ye—"

"They're gone." Stu's voice invaded the cave as he rolled through the crevice. "Kofi's taking care of Ron, his arm was grazed. Four dead, two ran. I heard a car, so they probably had it waiting." He held a hand over his forearm and Stephen knew he was injured as well. "Let's get into the car and on the road."

Stephen nodded, placing a hand on Annette's arm to guide her to the entrance. "Ah've got yeh," he promised softly, helping her slide through after seeing Kofi waiting to help her down.

**A/N: Thank you to Blackhat, Amber, Nikki, Lou, prettybaby69 (x2), ThatGirl54, Jojo, and charmedbyortonbarrett (x2) for the lovely reviews. You honestly have no idea how much your words of encouragement mean to me. Love you! :}**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

"Where are we going?"

Annette's question pierced the silence of the SUV. Crammed into the middle seat between Stu and Ron, she struggled to keep the anxiety from showing as she cleaned Stu's forearm. He hadn't said what had caused the divot in his lightly tanned skin, but she had a feeling it was from a bullet. To her left Ron held a thick pad of gauze to his bicep. Stu flinched each time she swiped the antiseptic-soaked gauze over his wound.

"We're going to meet Stephanie and April." Stu's voice was tight. Annette couldn't tell if it was from pain or because he kept glancing back to see Ted seated next to Kofi in the backseat.

Occasionally a pained moan sounded from the man. Each time one came she recalled the cracking of bones as Stu slammed his fist into the man's jaw. The wild look in his eyes. She'd been so sure that he would kill him. She'd been afraid of him, even when he'd turned to embrace her. The wildness had gone from his eyes, but...

She was still afraid.

Giving a quick shake of her head, she pawed through the first-aid box looking for more gauze. He was still bleeding. The first-aid course she'd taken years before was barely a haze in her mind but she knew the fact blood still seeped from the wound wasn't good. Her fingers shook as she plucked out a roll of gauze, hastily wrapping it around his arm. As much to stop the bleeding as to get the gash out of her sight.

"We'll be there soon," Stephen advised from the driver's seat. Beside him, Cody sat, staring out the passenger window. He hadn't spoken since coming out of the tunnel. Annette knew he had stayed in there during the gunfire, probably because he couldn't stand to see his friend in pain. Or perhaps because he couldn't stand seeing a traitor.

The men remained silent on the rest of the drive. It did nothing to ease the fear and worry clawing inside her chest.

* * *

The large building hovered on the outskirts of Paris. Its neighborhood was decidedly seedy; Stu sensed rather than saw degenerates creeping in the shadows. Beside him Annette grew tenser and he knew she was recalling that first night when they'd sped through the streets. The burning pain in his arm kept him from putting it around her. He settled for resting his hand over hers, giving a squeeze as Stephen guided the SUV through the open door.

The door closed as soon as they passed through and he saw the only person he considered his boss waiting next to a table. Stephanie McMahon was a force to be reckoned with, professionally and personally. She was the one woman in the world that managed to frighten him. Then he saw the petite brunette at her side, one hand on the table.

"You remember Stephanie," he said to Annette as Stephen cut off the engine. She nodded, slipping her hand free of his. "That's April with her."

"Looks like they've been to Zurich." Ron pushed open his door, sliding out with a grimace. He then turned to help Annette out.

"What about him?" Kofi asked. Stu turned to look in the backseat, eyes narrowing as the rage within him grew.

He knew the handcuffs were attached to the seatbelt. "Leave him, he can't do anything. We'll see if he tries. If he does, kill him." The front passenger door slammed shut, causing Stu to shake his head. He followed Cody's angry steps across the empty area, coming to a stop near the wall. Looking back to Kofi, he opened his mouth when the other man shook his head.

"I'll talk to him."

Stu nodded and climbed out. Weary with exhaustion, he froze when the brunette approached him. The heels she wore brought her head nearly to his chest. Dark brown eyes glittered as she gazed up at him, then she looked down.

"Stuart, what happened?" April's voice was filled with concern. "Were you shot?"

"It's just a scratch." Fully aware of Annette looking at them he pulled away from her, making his way to the table. He had no desire to get into any sort of conversation with April. But as he waited for the others to settle and listen to what Stephanie had to say, he felt her gaze on him. When Annette took the seat next to him he reached for her hand. He didn't like the odd behavior she'd exhibited since escaping the cottage. He felt her fingers tense beneath his and shifted to meet her eyes, giving her hand a gentle squeeze when she glanced down. As Stephanie began to speak to Cody about translating the tablet, he let his attention drift. His gaze settled on April, sitting back a bit from the table. As he watched, she crossed one slim leg over the other, sending a flood of memories through his mind.

Their affair had been torrid, fueled by their close proximity. The case had been her first and she'd been eager to please. In more ways than one, he thought with a quick smirk. He had known then that it was nothing more than a bundle of clichés. The novice investigator bending to the will of her more seasoned supervisor. Flirting had been easy, and when she had shyly asked him in for a drink one night he had accepted. She hadn't cared that he was married and to be honest his wife had been the last thing on his mind once the door closed behind them.

After the first hurried tumble on her satin sheets he grew adept at keeping both women in his life happy. April had never been possessive, had never tried to keep him in her bed when he needed to go home. If Leigh had ever figured out that the bubbly young woman helped him with more than his work she had never let on. When Leigh died, April had backed off, giving him time to sort through what little grief he felt. And when he'd been ready she'd been there; breathless kisses and warm skin to lose himself in. She'd been there ever since. Never officially his – the last he'd heard she was dating someone in computer forensics – but always available.

Annette slipped her hand free when Stu's grip tightened considerably. She saw his frequent looks to the young woman across from him, just as she saw the looks the woman gave him. It was painfully obvious they had a history together. Judging from the way April gazed at him, the only thing keeping her from jumping him was the fact they were actually working. Annette clasped her hands in her lap, waiting for the jealousy to crop up. When it didn't she chalked it up to being too weary to notice.

"The tablet is made of granite. It's inscribed in Aramaic." Stephanie stood at the head of the table, hands on her hips as she nodded to the black box in front of her. "Which means we have to keep Ted alive a little longer."

Annette flinched at the cold tone. Having met Stephanie McMahon after she and Stephen had run off to Versailles, she considered herself lucky that the woman hadn't done the job for Jericho. "What does Ted have to do with the tablet?" she asked, as much to break the heavy silence as to find out.

Stephanie's lips dipped into a frown. "He's the only one we have that can translate Aramaic. I know you can, Cody, but Ted studied ancient languages in college. It was one of the reasons he was hired. I'll never forgive myself for that. Anyway, we're going to have to get him to work on that as soon as possible—"

"He might need to see a doctor first," Stephen broke in.

"What happened?" Stephanie's wavy hair bounced against her shoulder as she turned to look at Stu. "Well?"

"He fell on my fist," Stu answered, wriggling his fingers. The knuckles were faintly bruised. "Several times. And he might have knocked himself on the head with my gun."

"And you're just letting him sit in the truck and choke on his own blood?" Stephanie pinched the bridge of her nose. "April, give Cole a call and have him get out here immediately. Kofi, get him out and in a chair. You said they know about all the safe houses?"

"All. Even the newest one in upstate New York. So we need to find a new place, do a sweep, install security, and get Annette there as soon as possible." Stu dragged a hand down his face. "He said they know where all of us live, and our family members. So he must have taken a look at the personnel file."

"Goddamnit," Stephanie muttered, dropping into a chair. "This puts us in a spot. We can't get all that done overnight. And we don't have the manpower to keep an eye on our families. Not to mention—"

Annette glanced up when the woman stopped talking. Following her gaze to the SUV, she watched as Kofi helped Ted out of the backseat. He was conscious but stumbling as he was led by the table. Stephen rose to give Kofi a hand and they had barely made it three feet away when Ted spoke.

"He's after Stu."

"Shit. Bring him here." Stephanie kicked an empty chair back from the table, the scraping of metal against concrete echoing in the large area. She stood once Ted was seated. "Why is he after Stu?"

"His wife." Ted leaned to the side, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "She was being groomed."

Stephanie's glare was cold. "Listen to me. You are going to stop giving me answers one sentence at a time. Unless you want me to have Kofi pull the trigger you're going to tell me what I need to know. What does Stu's dead wife have to do with anything?"

"She worked for him. He liked her. He said she had smarts and would be good for the corporate side of our religion. Then she started having doubts. The Hawkins case." Ted leaned to spit again. "Jericho said that Stu fucked him over by taking Leigh away from him. They were supposed to get him, not her. It was all Stu's fault. Plus..."

Annette held her breath when Ted hesitated. She closed her eyes upon seeing Stephanie's nod. Fully expecting to hear a gunshot she gripped her hands until it was painful, waiting for the inevitable.

"He defiled their marriage." Ted's words were gasped. Daring to peek, Annette saw the muzzle of Kofi's gun held firm at his temple. And she breathed a little easier when the gun slid away. "Jericho said that Bennett would pay for sleeping with whores. The bonds of marriage are sacred and he broke them all the time. Now he fucks another sinner."

"He does? And who would that be?"

"Miss Jacobs. She discovered the forbidden image of the world's true savior. Only the anointed ones can look upon his face."

"The painting is Judas?" Annette blurted, clapping one hand over her mouth when everyone looked to her. She doubted they were doing so because of her outburst.

"Hadar, our beloved founder, created the mosaic from memory. He ordered that those who did not believe could not see the face of the world's most sincere martyr." Ted shifted to wipe his mouth on his shoulder. "Levesque was supposed to hand the painting over to Jericho but he refused. Then his stupid daughter gave it to the museum."

"You killed her." Stephanie tilted her head to one side. It wasn't as question.

"I had to. My master commanded it."

"Did he command that you rape her, too?"

Ted's smirk was gruesome. "That wasn't rape."

"Get him out of here before I pull a trigger," Stephanie instructed. When she turned back to the table she took a deep breath.

"Cole will be here within five," April said.

"Good." Stephanie took her seat again, lacing her fingers and placing her clasped hands on the table. "I have a plan."

* * *

Cody leaned back in his chair, fingers slipping beneath the lenses of his glasses to rub his burning eyes. "Ste," he said gently, hoping it was loud enough to get the man's attention but no so loud anyone would overhear him. When the Irishman glanced up from the map he was viewing, Cody swallowed anxiously. "It's alright if I go with you, right?"

"Yeh don't even know where ah'm goin'."

"I don't care. I just... I can't work side-by-side with him anymore," Cody attempted to explain. How could he be expected to? The man who had been nearly a brother to him had turned out to be a monster. He looked to the closed door across from him. On the other side, Dr. Cole was patching up Ted's face. Even though he was grateful for the new information he couldn't help wishing Stu had finished the job back in the damp cave. "Please, Ste. I can set up a direct messaging program that's untraceable. He and I can do the translating through that. Then I don't have to look at his face."

"Ah can see yer point." Stephen began folding the map. "Ah'll check it with Stephanie."

"Thanks." Cody stretched his arms above his head, cracking his knuckles as he did so. "Where are you going, by the way?"

"Ah can't tell yeh." Stephen wet his lips and met his eyes. "Ah don't mean ah don't trust yeh... Ah'm not sure meself where ah'm goin' yet."

"I understand."

The group was splitting up. Ted would be with April and Stu. Cody, too, unless Stephen pulled in a favor. Annette would be going into hiding with Stephen. Stephanie's idea was that doing so would ease the pressure on Annette, but everyone knew that wouldn't happen. He had no clue where Kofi and Ron would be headed, but he doubted that they would just faded into the background. Now that the doctor had looked over Ron's wound the man was ready for vengeance.

Cody glanced to where Stu and Annette stood with Stephanie. The three were obviously deep in conversation. He had an inkling that Stu was doing his best to have Annette with him. When Stephanie had agreed to Stephen's suggestion that he and Annette sneak away, Stu had been less than pleased. And the words slipped out before he could censor them. "Do you really think they're sleeping together?"

"It's none of my business."

"Well, no, but you have to have a feeling about it right? He's your best friend."

"Ah just don't want either of them hurt."

"You think he'd hurt her?" Cody asked, looking on as Stephanie shook her head. She touched Annette's arm briefly before marching across to the room Ted was being held in. "Or that she'd hurt him?"

"Ah didn't say that." Stephen exhaled sharply. "Ah just want all of this over with."

Cody nodded. He couldn't imagine the pain his coworker was in. He had lost his cousin and one of his closest friends in the same day. True, they had all lost Drew, but he had been closest to Stephen. "It's been a shit day."

"Yeh got that right. Somethin' tells me they'll only be shittier before this is finished."

Cody nodded, deciding it best to say nothing when the man gathered his things and went after Stephanie. At a loss as to what to do, he looked back to Stu and Annette. He couldn't hear what they were saying. The clatter of things being moved between vehicles impeded that. Letting his head fall back, he closed his eyes and attempted to get a few moments of rest.

Annette watched Ron lay a barrage of weapons on the table against the wall. He and Kofi pulled more and more from the crates they had unloaded from one of the SUVs. About to ask Stu if they were preparing for a war she decided against it. "Drew," she said softly, looking up at Stu. "Stephanie said she had his family's permission for a quick funeral here in France."

"You're not going."

She pursed her lips together, fighting the irritation. Damn the man and his ability to answer her questions before she could ask them. "When is it going to be?"

"First thing in the morning. Ryan and his team should have the place cleared of remains now. Cole will do the death certificate so his family can collect the life insurance, and they'll probably have a memorial back in Scotland."

The clinical tone he used only irritated her further. "Will you go?"

"If I can."

"Then why—" She shook her head, reaching to rub her temples. A headache was brewing and she knew it would be several hours still before she could even attempt to rest. "Do you know where Stephen's taking me?"

"No. And before you ask, no, I'm not happy about him sneaking you away. But I guess my opinion doesn't matter since I'm dead now." He rubbed his unshaven chin, his furrowed brow speaking volumes as to what he thought of Stephanie's plan.

"Stephanie has a point though. If Jericho thinks you died in the cottage, he won't be hunting for you. And I might be able to..." She swallowed and tried a different tack. "Even if he doesn't believe it he'll have to divide his men and—"

"You think I don't realize that? I know it's a good thing." He reached for her and seemed to not notice that she tensed. She knew it was probably silly but she couldn't help seeing his unleashed fury on Ted each time he touched her.

"I doubt you'll be lonely." Without meaning to she glanced to where April was placing a suitcase in the rear of the furthest SUV. From the pressed black suit to the beige Louboutins to the elegantly coiffed hair, it was easy to see that she and the other woman were leagues apart when it came to fashion. She felt positively dowdy in the jeans and sweater she'd been wearing for two days straight. But even a full wardrobe and long hot shower wouldn't put her in the same atmosphere as April.

"Not jealous are you?" he asked.

"Do you want me to be?" She turned her head away, closing her eyes as his lips brushed her forehead. "It's not like I own you. Or that we... What are we, Stu?"

"Are we getting into this now?"

"There's no need." She pulled away. "Do you do this with all the women you rescue, though?"

"Considering I don't spend my days rescuing women I can safely answer no."

"Ted said—" She shook her head again, raking a hand through her hair. Why should she take the word of a known traitor? Then again, why should she take the word of a man who'd all but admitted to sleeping with any woman that came along? He hadn't exactly denied Ted's accusation. "You know what, it doesn't matter. I should be focused on living past the first of April, not about what's going on between us."

"You're right."

She almost asked if it hurt to say those two words but refrained. Nodding, she met his eyes as doors slammed and a vehicle started. "Be careful out there, okay?"

"Same goes for you. Whatever Ste says, you listen to him. Don't do anything stupid. And for God's sake, don't run away from him like you did me." He smiled when she opened her mouth to defend herself. "I know, I know. Please be careful, Annette."

He reached for her again and this time she didn't hesitate to step into his arms. Truly fearing something would happen before she could see him again, she pressed her face to his chest.

**A/N: Dana, prettybaby69, Nikki, Lou, charmedbyortonbarrett, Jojo, ThatGirl54, Amber, BarrettsGirl, Blackhat and Katiefabe are all wonderfully awesome people. Love you! **


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

_Near Kinvara, County Galway, Ireland_

When Stephen had informed her they were staying in a cottage, Annette's mind had conjured up an image of a tiny building tucked among a grove of trees. She had daydreamed on the ride from the airport, unable to see any of the landscape due to the pitch black night. Picturing exterior walls covered in ivy, perhaps a babbling brook in the rear surrounded by pretty flowers, she looked forward to seeing the space Stephen had chosen.

The rain continued as Stephen parked in the village to pick up a few supplies. The village was just waking up, locals moving around and shops opening up. Annette peered up at the sky from beneath the large hood of the coat he'd put around her shoulders when they'd landed. Spying the steeple of a nearby church, she smiled.

She was rather let down when they'd stopped at a gray stone house in what seemed the center of a field. No ivy. No brook. No flowers.

From the outside it looked large, at least as big as the now destroyed cottage in France. After crossing the threshold though she'd discovered just how small it was. The living room featured a futon and a wood stove in what had once been the fireplace. On the mantel was an old-fashioned lantern, a broken walking stick and framed photos of small dogs. A set of built-in shelves were stuffed with books and random nicknacks. Several stones, more photos, and a basket of rusted tools.

The kitchen was tiny, boasting a modern-looking range, refrigerator and a microwave. With only a few cabinets to store things, the pots and pans were stacked on the counter. On the wall above the sink a Celtic cross. Aside from that there were no other decorations.

With Stephen's permission she ventured further, discovering a bathroom. No claw-footed tub from her daydream; instead a shower that was tiled in a soft blue. The sink and toilet looked new, and in the air she caught the faint aroma of fresh paint. Beyond she found two bedrooms. They looked the same in size, one with a worn armchair next to the window. The beds were made with thick quilts and across the foot of each bed was an aran afghan.

Despite it being not what she'd imagined, she decided she loved it.

By the time she made it back to the living area the books she'd requested were waiting on the small table beneath the window across from the futon. Three suitcases were stacked against the wall, ready to be taken to the bedrooms. From the kitchen came the sounds of groceries being put away. Taking note of the small room just off the living room, she peered in to see Cody setting up a computer.

She could tell by his expression that he wasn't in the mood for a chat. Pulling the door closed to give him privacy, she found her new messenger bag and approached the table. There was already a fire going in the stove, its heavy door doing little to mask the sound of crackling wood. She took the afghan from the futon to wrap herself in until the room warmed and got to work.

"What are yeh doin'?"

Annette marked her place with her finger and glanced up to see Stephen in the doorway to the kitchen. "A little light reading," she answered, indicating the books stacked on the table.

"That's light?" Stephen asked with a glimmer of a smile, stepping into the room. The rain that had been falling since their arrival in Ireland lashed at the window, and the wind whistled occasionally. He checked the fire before joining her at the table, noting the knitted afghan around her shoulders. "There's a kettle on if yeh want tea in a few minutes."

"Sure." Her head was bent, lips moving as she read the fine text. With a sigh, she propped an elbow on the table and rubbed her eyes. "For such a controversial figure, there's not much known about Judas."

"Ah suppose he should be a bit of an enigma." Stephen looked over the piles of opened books. When she had requested a trip to the nearest church he had thought she'd only wanted to light a candle in memory of Drew. She had, then asked for a few moments with the priest. Stephen had no idea how she had managed it, but the man had acquiesced when she'd asked to borrow a few books. There were at least four bibles mixed in with historical texts based on scripture.

"Yes, but it's all depending on which gospel you read. In Mark, his only purpose is to hand Jesus over. Nothing else is said of him. The other gospels mention more but he's still a mystery." She pulled a bible close, flipping to a marked page. "In Matthew the thirty pieces of silver are brought up. And the field blood."

"Field of blood," he murmured, recalling a bit of what he had learned in school. "He returned the money to the priests then hanged himself."

"Right, but they believed it was blood money. They refused to bring it back into the temple. The priests bought a potter's field with it to bury strangers. So the silver went to the landowner."

"So end of story?" he asked, still not sure where she was going.

"Not quite. Luke wrote that it was Judas who bought the field. And according to Luke, he didn't hang himself. He fell in the field and his middle burst, all of his bowels spilling out." Annette seemed unfazed at the gory detail, drumming her fingers on the table. "_Akeldama_. Aramaic for 'field of blood.'"

"Where are yeh goin' with this?" he finally asked.

"Matthew refers to _agros_ of blood because it was bought with Jesus' blood. In Acts, Luke writes about the _chorin_ of blood, because Judas committed suicide there. Papias," she said, reaching for yet another volume, "writes that Judas died of a painful, shameful disease on his own land. He goes on to say that the stench of him hangs over the land."

Stephen nodded, rising to his feet when he heard the kettle start to whistle. "And?"

"All texts point to a field bought either by Judas or the priests with the thirty pieces." Annette rose, too, wrapping the afghan tighter around her. "I checked online. There are tours in Jerusalem to a field south of the city."

He stopped in the doorway, turning to face her. "No."

"What?" she asked, eyes wide at his tone.

"Ah'm not about to let yeh go gallivantin' all over Israel lookin' for a field." The kettle began to shriek and he turned to go into the tiny kitchen. As he pulled it off the heat he counted to five, knowing in his heart that she would begin speaking.

She didn't let him down. "I'm not asking to go gallivanting around the entire country. I just had a thought that if we could find the silver, we could use it as a bargaining chip."

"That's what yeh life is worth to yeh, then?" He stepped to the side when she reached for the kettle.

"We know that Jericho wants them. And I didn't say I had to be the one to go digging in fields. But you have to see my reasoning."

"Ah do. But there's no tellin' if the coins are still around. Who's to say the potter that owned it didn't spend 'em all?"

"You have a point." The afghan slipped from one shoulder as she gathered cups and spoons. When she turned to face him he saw for the first time how tired she was. Dark shadows beneath her eyes hinted at a lack of sleep, and he knew poring over books for a tiny clue wasn't helping her at all.

"After yeh drink this, yeh need to get some sleep."

"I'll try. Has Cody..." She shifted to rearrange the afghan, obviously not used to the cold. "Has he come out at all?"

Stephen nodded. "To complain about the crappy satellite reception."

"I'll take him some tea. And some food." She glanced around the kitchen. "You said this is your friend's place?"

"Aye." She didn't need to know that the friend was more the friend of a friend of a former girlfriend. He owed more than a few favors now but her safety was his number one concern. "He comes here to get away from everythin'."

"It's certainly away," she mused, one corner of her mouth pulling upward. "Does it ever stop raining?"

"Once in a while. Yeh get used to it."

They both turned at the sound of creaking floorboards. Despite the space between them Stephen felt her entire body tense. He placed a hand on her shoulder, adjusting the afghan as Cody entered the kitchen.

"Finished," he whispered, placing a sheaf of paper on the counter. "Unless he lied about some of this, too."

Annette picked them up, thumbing through the printouts. "How did you finish it so quickly?"

"Hadar liked saying the same thing over and over again. If he hadn't repeated himself the tablet could have been half the size it is." Cody pushed his glasses on top of his head and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Is there any aspirin?"

"There's some in here," Annette murmured. Hugging the papers to her chest with one arm, she reached around Stephen to open the cabinet. "It's unopened so it's safe, right?" she asked softly, holding the bottle.

"It's safe," he promised. The room seemed to have grown smaller. Taking the papers from her, he began reading the first page as Annette started to fuss over Cody.

His attention was pulled from the text, though, and he watched with mild amusement as she instructed the man sit at the table. A glass of water was handed over as well as the aspirin, the afghan discarded as she began looking for something to cook. He knew the supplies were low; he'd only grabbed a few things at the store in the closest village while she had sweet-talked the priest. Feeling in the way, he stepped around her, picking up the afghan to toss into the living room. He opened his mouth to say he would come get his tea later, only to have a fresh cup placed in his empty hand.

"Milk, no sugar," she promised with a quick smile before turning to tackle a meal.

"Thank yeh."

"I'm just going to warm up some canned soup. I'm too tired to actually cook." She balanced cans in one arm as she looked around. "Toast if I can find a toaster."

"There isn't one," he informed, leaning in the doorway.

"Of course," she sighed. "Soup and bread it is." There was a heavy thunk as she placed the cans on the counter. "Go sit and drink your tea."

"Next she'll be telling us to go wash our hands," Cody said softly as Stephen took the chair across from him. "She sounds a lot like my mom."

"Mine, too," Stephen murmured. "Cooks like her, too."

"How come none of the – Thanks." Cody flashed a small smile when a cup of tea was placed in front of him. When Annette began rattling pans, he turned his attention back to Stephen. "How come none of the women on the team can cook?"

"Probably because they're more interested in gettin' the job done." Stephen rubbed his chin, glancing down at the tea in his cup.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking." Cody stretched in his seat, one foot bumping into Stephen's leg. He muttered an apology, then cursed the smallness of the cottage. "You really think he'll do that?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow, wondering how the man knew his thoughts so well. "Do ah think who will do what?"

"Stu." Cody pushed his glasses back into place. "Everyone knows how those two are."

He shook his head, lifting his cup to drink the rest of his tea to keep from speaking too quickly. Again he reminded himself that it was none of his business. If Stu wanted to have sex with every woman he met, it was neither here nor there to Stephen. But he began to worry.

"Ah don't know," he answered, keeping his voice low. "And ah don't care."

"Sure. You cared when you walked in on them that time."

"That was different." Stephen glanced over to see Annette scraping the contents of a can into a pan. "He was married. Besides, it doesn't matter what he does as long as nothin' damages the case."

Cody propped one elbow on the table, eyes meeting his. "She's more than just a case to you."

He would have argued had he thought Cody would believe him. Instead, he gave a quick nod. "But now isn't the time to worry about anythin' else."

* * *

Though it was all in French, Stu got the general gist of the newscast. Propped up in the hotel bed, he had one arm behind his head as he watched grainy footage of the blown up cottage. He shook his head when a photo of him appeared onscreen, able to pick out the word 'agent' in the anchor's rapid speech.

The locking mechanism on the door clicked and he reached beneath the pillow beside him. Fingers closing around his gun, he relaxed when he heard April's voice. She slipped into his room, turning to fasten the locks. His gaze roved over her figure, taking in the complimentary bathrobe and bare feet. He'd known she would arrive sooner or later. Picking up the remote, he turned down the volume a bit, eyes once more on the TV.

"I checked in on Ted. Kofi's given him one of the shots Cole left with us, so he's out for the night." She dropped the key into the pocket of her robe, brown eyes darting to the TV. "How's it feel to be a dead man?"

"Not too bad. Right now it's the same as it was when I was alive," he said, tucking his arm behind his head again. She joined him on the bed, her perfume assailing his senses. When he felt warm skin against his side he glanced down and saw the robe had been discarded. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, getting in his way. His arm went around her, drawing her over him as their lips met.

"I've missed you," she whispered between kisses. His hands moved over her skin, gentle at first then nearly bruising. She gasped, then whined, and when her legs parted for him he realized she was completely nude. Eager to let her finish what she had started he forced his hands to rest his sides as her lips danced down his chest.

"Light?" he asked, switching off the TV. But for the glow of moonlight coming through the thin curtains the room was dark.

"You know I like feeling my way around." Her teeth gently sank into his hip, then her lips slid over his skin. "I want to taste you, Stuart."

"Shit," he groaned. When had she pushed his boxers down? Her breath, fire against his skin, caused him to reach for her. April released a pleased moan when he yanked her up by her hair. "Later."

"Don't tell me that the great Stuart Bennett hasn't had any in a while." He knew she was

grinning. Pulling her down so their lips met he reached for the wallet lying on the nightstand. She was already panting, rubbing slick heat over his length. Slim fingers slid along his arms, pulling his hand back to her body before he could grasp his wallet. "We don't need that."

"Right," he muttered, batting her hand away. Just as his fingers closed over the leather his cell phone began to ring.

"Ignore it," April whispered against his throat.

He was tempted. Especially when she shifted and the tip of his cock slipped into her. With a growl, he clamped his hand on her waist to keep her still. He fumbled with his phone, telling himself that if it was someone unimportant he would call them back later. Del Rio. With a muttered curse he answered the call. "What?"

"Our friend has been clearing his flock."

It took him a few seconds. Sitting up, he hissed when the movement caused April to slide further down him. He felt her smile. Then her teeth scraped his throat. Forcing her off him, he held a finger to his lips. "How do you mean?"

April sighed and straddled his thighs. The hand stroking him was warm. The lips moving down his torso were even warmer.

"Michael Mizanin. You remember him. He was found two hours ago. Rather, his head was."

A pair of lips wrapped around him, drew him in quickly, and he felt as though his eyes would roll back.

"Fuck," Stu groaned. He fell back against the pillow, the hand not clutching the phone to his ear dropping to grasp her hair. He had every intention of pulling her off until her tongue started to work, breaking away the last of his defenses. Clearing his throat so his voice wouldn't sound strained, he nudged her head further down. "Where?"

"Just outside of Jerusalem. One of our operatives discovered it in a building our friend used to own."

"Used to?" Stu repeated dumbly.

"He sold it yesterday. Now we know why." Del Rio muttered a few words in Spanish. "I wanted you there to help with the search but I was just alerted to your death."

Setting foot anywhere near Jericho's holdings – current or former – would make his death all too real. "Who are you sending?"

"April will be meeting me there. I called her room but there was no answer." There was a brief pause, during which Stu glanced down and met a pair of glittering brown eyes. "I take it she is with you?"

There was no use lying. Of all the men he worked with, Del Rio was the only one to remotely understand his off-and-on relationship with the woman. "She is."

A knowing chuckle. "Have her call me when she is finished. And I will speak to you tomorrow."

The call ended and Stu threw his phone aside, reaching to grasp her head in both hands. "You need to call Del Rio," he announced, grateful for the dim moonlight that allowed him to see her. Just a bit, but it was enough to aid his pleasure.

She frustrated him by raising her head. The tip of her tongue danced over her lips, one hand replacing her mouth. "Right now?" she asked softly before resuming her task.

"Later." He urged her to move faster, tilting his head back. So close. Already. She must have had some hold over him, or a bag of tricks no other woman possessed when sucking his dick.

Eager to please, as always, she gave him full control. He'd always liked that she didn't fight him. Her eyes never leaving his, she gave a soft moan that almost sent him over the edge.

"Swallow," he demanded, hand at the back of her neck tightening. He curled his fingers in her hair, not caring that his fingers were digging into her skin as his head tipped back. Eyes closing, he growled as the pleasure swept through him. "Fuck, Annette!"

He was vaguely aware of her gurgle of surprise but was too far gone to do more than hold her head in place. He felt her lips and tongue work to do as he'd commanded. Spent, he released her, sucking in a deep breath as his body gave a slight shudder.

"Magnificent as always," he murmured when she sat up. He lazily reached to turn on the lamp then tucked his arms behind his head. "Give me a few minutes, my dear, then we'll see to you getting yours."

"Are you going to call out the wrong name then, too? Or was that just a one-time thing?" she asked, wiping her chin with her fingers. There was venom in her voice and she moved off the bed.

"What?" he asked. Relaxation forgotten, he lifted his head just in time to see her walk into the bathroom. Seconds later the water in the sink turned on and he sighed. She'd be using his toothbrush. He made a mental note to purchase a new one later. Her silence spoke volumes and he listened to her clean her mouth, wrinkling his nose when she spit into the sink. When she reentered the room, he saw the scowl on her face. "What the fuck did I do?"

"'Fuck, Annette!'" she mimicked, brushing her fingers through her hair. "Really, Stu?"

"You heard wrong," he insisted. "Besides, what's it matter?"

"What's it matter? Christ, are you really that stupid? What if I called out the wrong name when you were getting me off? You'd be pissed." She grabbed her robe off the floor.

"You're acting like a jealous wife," he snorted. Jumping off the bed, he caught her by the arm before she could pull on the robe.

"Oh, so if I scream Stephen's name or Del Rio's name or hell, even Cody's name when you make me come it'll be no big deal?" She rolled her eyes and pushed at his chest. "I'm sure your sweet little Annette would love to know you were thinking of her while my mouth was on your dick."

"Going to tell her?" he asked darkly, recalling now why they would never do as a permanent couple. She was petty. So was he. She was jealous. So was he.

And she was a bit of a bitch.

"Maybe I will. Then I'll tell her how big of a dick you can be so she'll know—"

His palm met her cheek a little harder than he'd intended. Eyes narrow, he tightened his grip on her arm and hauled her closer to him. "You're not going to tell her a damned thing, do you understand me?"

Hand cupping her cheek, she glared up at him. "You don't own me, Stuart. You fuck me, yes. You shove your dick down my throat, yes. But other than that you have no say in my life."

"Wanna bet? With one phone call to Stephanie I can make sure you're out of a job."

The sting of her hand on his cheek was unexpected. She pushed at his chest again and he let her go, rubbing his jaw.

"You can be such a dick," she snarled, wrenching her robe over her shoulders. "And the fact you have a big one doesn't make up for it." She stalked to the door, seeming not to care that she hadn't tied it. "I hope that Stephen fucks the hell out of her while they're wherever they are. In fact, I hope he fucks her so good she doesn't even think of you anymore. Sweet dreams, Stu."

**A/N: Happy New Year! The holidays and two deaths in the family made it near impossible to do any real writing over the past month. I didn't realize I'd neglected this story for so long! (We won't discuss the other stories I've neglected for far longer.) I hope all my readers are happy and healthy!**

**Thank you to: Nikki, Blackhat, ThatGirl54, charmedbyortonbarrett, Amber, Jojo, Lou, Agnesita1385, Malabrigo, prettybaby69, and BarrettsGirl for the lovely reviews. Much love to you all! :)**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Staring at the computer screen, Cody drummed his fingers against the desk. The little cottage was quiet – too quiet for his comfort. He occasionally heard the rain pattering at the roof. Itching to turn on some music he refrained, knowing he needed to be able to hear every small sound. With a sigh he glanced at the monitor to his left and noted that the surrounding area was devoid of...

Well, anything. Beyond the scope of the night-vision security cameras, there was nothing but fields. Stephen had mentioned that the owner of the land allowed a neighbor to let his sheep graze but Cody hadn't seen so much as a hint of life. It made keeping an eye on things just a little easier. It also made it easier for him to drift off in thought.

He shook his head to clear it, refusing to venture into the morose thoughts of his longtime friend. Growing alert when he heard a floorboard creak he rose from his chair and reached for his gun. His fingers shook as he remembered Ted giving it to him so long ago. Unable to touch it now he ducked to slip one from the spot beneath the desk. It was newer, held no memories, and his grip was sure.

"It's me," a soft voice called as he moved in the direction of the noise.

Annette. Breathing a sigh of relief, Cody pushed the safety back on and placed the gun on the desk. When he glanced to the door he saw her, holding two steaming mugs. An afghan was trailing the floor behind her.

"I couldn't remember how you take your coffee," she said, handing a mug over. "If it's not right let me know."

He took a tentative sip and nodded. Too much sugar but he wouldn't complain. "What are you doing up?" he asked, raising an eyebrow when she pulled the spare chair close to the desk.

"Couldn't sleep." She sat, wrestling with the afghan until it was wrapped around her. "Stephen snores."

She didn't seem bothered that he knew she and Stephen were sharing a room. Nodding, Cody took another sip of coffee. "You can take my room if you like."

"No. I'm not really tired. I sleep better during the day. At least, I do now." She looked down into her mug and cleared her throat. "I wanted to know if you'd do something for me."

"Um..."

"It's nothing crazy, I promise. You can ask Stephen if it's okay before you do it."

"What is 'it' exactly?"

"Do you think you could find a map of Jerusalem from biblical times? Specifically the time of Christ. And a current one as well."

Not seeing anything wrong with her request, Cody turned so he faced the computer and reached for the mouse. "Okay. Do you want me to overlay them or print them out separately?"

"Both. I want to be able to see how they coincide but also be able to refer to one or the other. Can that be done?"

"Yeah." He set down his coffee and pulled the keyboard closer. As he began to type into the database of maps, he glanced at her. "Tell me you're not planning a trip."

"I'm not."

He noticed she didn't meet his eyes. "Ste's going to kill you."

"And Stu's going to bring me back to life so he can kill me all over again. Really, Cody, I'm not planning a trip. I'm just curious."

"You know it's possible that Hadar lied, right? Or that someone could have found that cave and the coins?" Just the same, he downloaded the first map she'd requested then searched for the other.

"It's also possible that no one's been able to find it. He said he buried it." Her fingernails tapped the side of her mug. "I don't think he would have lied. He was a true believer that Judas was the divine tool in the salvation of the world."

"Fucking traitor," Cody muttered.

"In a way, Hadar was right. If Judas hadn't betrayed—"

"Someone else would have. For money. Or to avoid punishment for themselves. Or any other of a million reasons. It just goes to show that you can't really trust anyone."

She was silent as he angrily clicked the mouse. She remained silent until he had finished his coffee and the printer was spitting out the current map of Jerusalem. Then, with a small sigh, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"That doesn't mean I'm not sympathetic. I know what it's like to think a person is wonderful only to learn they're really evil."

Cody sighed, snatching the papers from the tray. She took them, afghan falling to the floor as she began spreading the printouts on the small table. When he'd completed the overlay and started printing that, he got to his feet to help.

"The field is heavy with clay deposits," she whispered, finger tracing an area on the current map. "See how this spot looks barren? There's a definite border around it, then the surrounding area is farmland."

"That's practically in Syria, though. Would it be that far north?"

"He wanted a place no one would think to look. If you were going to hide something of that historical value where would you put it?"

"In a bank," he snorted, relieved when she laughed.

"I wonder," she whispered, leaning over the maps.

"Yeh can stop, 'cause yeh no' goin'."

Cody whirled around, cursing mentally when he saw Stephen in the doorway. How had he sneaked up without either of them hearing?

"I'm not going," Annette defended.

"Ah know yer not."

"But it wouldn't hurt to—"

"No."

"Don't you think—"

"Ah'm no' lettin' yeh crawl around in caves that close to Jericho."

Cody stood aside as the two continued to argue. There was no venom in either of their voices. Annette picked up the map and began gesturing to it, but Stephen shook his head. Cody was almost amused.

Until he realized that they'd carried their bickering out of the room.

"Well," he grunted, leaning to retrieve the dropped printouts. He heard a door slam and let himself smile.

* * *

"If you could just listen—"

"Ah'm no' about to let yeh talk me into—"

"God, would you stop interrupting me?"

"Would yeh stop and think that maybe ah want to keep yeh safe?"

The door to the bedroom slammed behind them. Annette jerked a hand through her hair, groaning. She should have known Stephen would never go for her idea. He was just as stubborn as Stu, if not more so. Backing up until the edge of the bed met the backs of her knees, she gave him an imploring look. "I just want to find out if they exist. And if they do..."

"Jericho's no' goin' to bargain wit' yeh." He advanced, then his hands were cupping her cheeks. "Yeh really think yeh can waltz up to him, give him the coins, then go on wit' yeh life?"

"I'm not that stupid," she grumbled, not about to admit to thinking of a very similar situation. Stephen's lips brushed over hers. Gentle at first, then with growing intensity when she didn't pull away.

"Ah'll talk to Stephanie," he whispered between kisses. One hand left her face, gliding down her back to push her closer to him. "But ah'm no' makin' any promises."

"Okay." Holding onto his biceps, she dug her fingers in when he lifted her. She held her breath, waiting for him to place her on the bed and make her go to sleep.

He did place her on the bed and, to her surprise, joined her. His lips covered hers again, pushing the last arguments to the back of her mind. As though sensing her compliance, he drew back. "Yeh need some sleep." Another kiss and when he began to pull back she followed, not wanting to lose the warmth he'd given her. "Annette…"

"I'm not sleepy." She was surprised when he laid back, letting her straddle him. Sitting up, she pushed her hair from her face.

"Ste?" Cody called, followed by a light tapping on the door. "Del Rio wants to talk to you."

Annette slid off the bed in an instant, grabbing the afghan that had fallen to the floor. She wrapped it around her shoulders as Stephen got up, aware of how cold she'd become as soon as they'd parted. She followed him out of the room and to what she had come to think of as Cody's domain.

Cody indicated the computer chair and a headset lying on the desk. Realizing that she wouldn't be privy to their conversation, she looked to Cody, who shrugged. "The maps?" she asked once Stephen had put on the headset. "I thought we could tape the printouts together so it's three big maps instead of a bunch of pages."

"Sure." He rubbed the back of his neck, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. "Let me find some tape."

It was difficult not to attempt listening in, but she focused on the task at hand. Each time she heard her name she had to fight the urge to look to Stephen. They were almost finished when he said a curt goodbye. Finally looking over, Annette saw him jab a button on the keyboard. He pulled the headset off and tossed it to the desk.

"April's headin' to Jerusalem. Mizanin's head was found."

"That dick," Cody muttered without looking up. "What about Stu?"

"He's goin' back to Del Rio's place wit'… Ted."

"They know about Del Rio and his villa, though. Don't they?"

"So Ted says."

Next to her, Cody ripped off a piece of tape so hastily that the force sent the roll to the floor. With a muttered curse he shook the tape from his fingers and leaned over.

"And us?"

"We'll keep doin' as we are," Stephen murmured.

She nodded, looking back to the maps. "Are you going to call Stephanie about—"

"She was with Del Rio. She thinks it's a bad idea and said yeh need to stay where yeh are."

* * *

He watched the smoke curl upwards from the tip of the cigarette. It wafted in the draft of the room, slithering further away until it reached the ceiling, where it bounced. He took another deep drag, until the smoke burned his lungs. Releasing it slowly he closed his eyes and felt some of the tension begin to leave his body.

"You are happy?"

Her voice, so unlike the one that had come before her, nearly startled him. He opened his eyes and looked to the bed. "For the moment, yes," he answered.

She looked, he thought, thoroughly fucked. Her olive skin contrasted nicely to the rumpled white sheets, one of which was draped over her body demurely. Her long dark hair was just as rumpled as the sheets and when she rolled onto her side to face him it tumbled forward, concealing the breasts the sheet had revealed.

"Do you need anything?" she asked.

He thought of the servants within the building, each ready to do his bidding at a second's notice. They had been trained well; some bore reminders of his displeasure. Her father, who oversaw most of the servants, had displeased him many times. He didn't let himself think she was with him for her own pleasure. Nor was she a willing sacrifice. He had no doubts that her father insisted she give herself up, hoping it would result in fewer visits to the cellar.

Not answering her question, he took one last drag of the cigarette before tossing it out the open window. He had the beginnings of a migraine but ignored the niggling pain and rose to his feet.

"Are you sore, Jojo?" he inquired as he approached the bed. With a gentle tug the sheet was gone.

"Yes."

"Let me see."

There was a flash of defiance in her eyes but she quickly looked down. Silent, she moved so she was in front of him. Gingerly she turned her back to him, reaching to brush her hair out of the way.

The network of welts from earlier had faded, leaving in their wake faint red lines. Along her shoulder blades was a series of small bruises. The headboard, he thought, tracing them lightly with his fingers. Her skin held the aroma of eucalyptus oil, which he'd applied to soothe her pain. She bent forward when he told her to, and he smirked upon seeing his handiwork.

He'd whipped her for assuming he needed a sex partner. She'd been right, but the lesson had been needed. He refused to share himself with those vain enough to think he needed them. Already incensed over the stupid Jacobs woman hiding with the equally stupid Bennett, he'd unleashed his fury on her. Only when she'd tearfully sworn obedience had he taken her.

It had been too long since he'd had a virgin, he mused, palming her bruised backside. She gasped in pain and he did it again, harder this time. He had been surprised to find she was truly a virgin. Her inept mouth had proved nothing; he found that even the loosest of women lacked proper oral skills. But the blood on the sheets had not lied, however, and he'd been so aroused he'd taken her again.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, bringing his hand down sharply. She gave a little cry that turned into a moan when his fingers slid down. "I've barely touched you and you're already wet." Pushing two fingers into her he felt his cock twitch. With his left hand he pushed his pants down, then palmed his length. Feeling her tighten around his fingers he began to move them slowly. "Did your daddy make sure you stayed pure?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"For me?" He withdrew his fingers. The heavy scent of her arousal had him closing his eyes. He dared a taste and hummed in pleasure. Later, when he was absolutely sure of her devotion, he would taste more. He slapped her bruised flesh hard. This time her cry was one of delight. "Or for your future husband?"

"For whomever I would be worthy of."

"You think you're worthy of me?" Pulling his pants back into place, he caught her by the hips and pulled her from the bed. She gasped as she landed on the hard floor but stayed on her hands and knees. "Do you?"

"I want to be." She kept her head bowed when he stepped around her.

"I am not an easy man to please." His favorite whip was gone. Anger starting to brew, he remembered he'd left it downstairs. With a curse, he turned to her. "Those before you thought they were worthy. Do you know what happened to them?"

"No sir."

He knelt in front of her, gathered a handful of hair and jerked her head back so she could see his face. "One ran away because she had angered me. She was dragged back here by my men. I ordered them to beat her, and when she was brought to me she begged me to kill her. She died…right about here," he whispered. "Her sister was next. I arrived early one afternoon and found her fucking one of my servants. I killed him while he was still inside her. Then she had the nerve to beg my forgiveness."

"They were not worthy," she said. He saw the fear in her eyes and tightened his grip on her hair.

"I thought the last was learning her place. I was making love to her and she taunted me." He brought his other hand up, grasping her throat. "She died while I was coming. Just as her spine snapped I came. It was…" He paused, looking for the proper word. "Almost spiritual."

She said nothing. He could feel her pulse beneath his fingers. He released her hair and stood. She followed suit, guided by the hand at her throat, and didn't break eye contact as he pushed her against the wall.

"So you will forgive me if I'm not open to trusting you right away."

"Yes."

"And you will forgive me when my mind is on things other than you."

"Yes."

"And when I come to you, angry at others and wanting your body?"

"I will give it freely." Her voice was sure, though her lips trembled.

"Why?"

"Because it is my duty to please you."

"Even though I may not please you?"

"Yes."

"If you willingly let another man touch you, I will kill you."

"I will deserve it."

"If I touch other women, will you be jealous?"

"Yes." He raised an eyebrow. "But mostly I will be upset that I displeased you enough to want another woman."

"You have all the right answers, don't you?" He smirked, allowed her a kiss. "There will be another, very soon. It has nothing to do with you, though. I merely need to tie up a few loose ends."

"I understand."

"Do you want to know what she did?" he asked.

"Only if you want me to know."

"Again, all the right answers." Another kiss, this one more lingering, and he released her throat. "I have to get some business done today. I want you to rest. Kaitlyn will be at your disposal should you need anything."

"Thank you."

"Come to bed with me. Your body needs rest but your mouth needs a lesson in how to please me."

He stepped back to allow her to pass. Watching her crawl into bed, he took note of the way she tenderly rested on her back. He made a mental note to have Kaitlyn draw her a warm bath. Stepping out of his pants he joined her.

Later, buoyant with pleasure, he left her in Kaitlyn's capable hands. It occurred to him that Annette Jacobs and Stu Bennett hadn't crossed his mind in quite a while and he was smiling when he entered his office.

"Morning." Phil Brooks was at the window overlooking the courtyard. "Or should I say afternoon?"

"What are you doing here?" Jericho rounded his desk and pulled out the key. "You're supposed to be in France."

"Bennett's dead."

"Are you sure?" Dropping the key, Jericho turned to the man he trusted most.

"It's all over the news. They found his body in what's left of that old cottage. You didn't know?"

"When did they release the information?" Without sitting he turned his attention to his computer. He recalled an attempt to disturb him just after retiring upstairs with Jojo the night before. He'd told them to go away.

"I'm not sure. It was on the news last night in Paris, and I checked online. Statement from McMahon and articles were on all the major news sites."

"It could be a trick."

"They're going to release photos later. My contact in London told me they're coming out in about…" Phil checked his watch. "I guess a couple hours from now. The word is he died trying to get out."

"Where's the girl?"

"That I don't know. No contact at all from Ted?"

"None. They've got him. If he betrayed us—" Jericho slammed a fist on the desk. "I want everyone on this, Phil."

"You got it."

"Her family."

"Want me to lean on them?"

"Not yet." Settling into his chair, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Get some background on them. Photos of their house. Inside and out. We'll let McMahon and the rest of them think we're moving in on them."

"Her mom's a looker." Phil licked his lips.

"When I've got that unworthy bitch, you can have her mother."

"Who do you want to get the info?" Content with the promise, Phil had returned to the business at hand.

"Ambrose and his boys. They're in the States."

Phil nodded, already pulling out his phone to send the message. "I heard Bennett's favorite is in the area. Looking into Mizanin's death. Want her brought in?"

"No."

"No?"

"I'll not have that whore tainting my home." Jericho smiled as an idea came to him. "I think we need a rehearsal of the service."

"But we've never—"

"We'll video it. And we'll make sure they see what we have planned for little Miss Jacobs." He nearly rubbed his hands together in glee. "Have her brought to the farm. No witnesses. No fuck-ups. Better do it yourself. I'll meet you there at sunset."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Briggs needs a raise. Ten percent. Send him and his wife on vacation for two weeks, starting tomorrow. My treat."

"He's done something right for once?" Phil snorted.

"If you consider raising an obedient daughter with the body of a goddess something right, then I suppose he has." Jericho reached for his phone. "See you at the farm."

**A/N: Yeah, yeah, I suck at updating fics. I know. The first step to getting help is admitting you have a problem right?**

**Thank you: Blackhat, Nikki, Jojo, Amber, Lou, Malabrigo, charmedbyortonbarrett, ThatGirl54, prettybaby69, BarrettsGirl, and T for the reviews. :)**


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

The atmosphere in the small kitchen mirrored the weather outdoors: bright and sunny. When Annette had awaked to find faint sunlight streaming through the curtains she had felt her mood lightened. Whether or not that was due to the Irishman that had shared her bed overnight, holding her in his arms, remained to be seen. She'd allowed herself a moment of pretending that this was normal. That her life was simple. Then the reality had flooded back and she'd crawled from bed, craving a simple, normal life.

Now standing in front of the stove, she waited for the ancient percolator she'd found to do its work. A plate of crisp bacon lay on the counter, a carton of eggs next to it waiting to be cooked. When the coffee finally began to perk she pulled the gadget off the flame and reached for her empty cup.

"You made real coffee?" Cody asked from behind her. "Where'd you find that?"

The cup, filled with the steaming, aromatic coffee, was taken from her hand. Annette groaned and turned to find another cup. "My grandmother had one of these."

"Thank god for the classics," he muttered as he raised the cup for a sip.

"Do ah smell coffee?"

Halfway through pouring another cup, Annette rolled her eyes and set down the percolator to get the milk. Once it was doctored to Stephen's presence she handed it over. "Is it alright if I fix coffee for myself now?"

"Nobody's stoppin' yeh," Stephen observed.

She cut him a glance as he leaned against the counter. He nearly filled the small space, causing her to step around him to get yet another cup. Cody reached to help himself to a slice of bacon and grinned when Stephen slapped his hand away.

After the first few sips of coffee Annette felt ready to tackle frying eggs. Stephen and Cody talked easily about their plans for the day. Cody was going to go over the Hadar translation to look for inconsistencies. Stephen had a planned conference call with Stephanie and Del Rio in the afternoon. She listened half-heartedly, hoping for some mention of Stu. When the name remained unsaid she opened the door to the oven to check the toast.

"What about you, Annette?" Cody asked as she placed silverware on the table. "Going to do some more light reading?"

"Probably."

"Ah was thinkin'." Stephen held out his empty cup and she took it to refill. "She should probably learn how to shoot."

"She may already know," Cody pointed out.

"She doesn't," Annette provided as she stirred milk into Stephen's coffee. "Isn't that dangerous, though? What about the neighbors?"

Stephen glanced to Cody as she handed over his cup. Taking a sip, he gave a small nod.

"The silencer." Cody nodded in understanding.

"Ah know a place yeh can take her. Yeh can go this afternoon."

"Stephen, I don't—"

"It won't hurt for yeh to at least know how to handle a gun. Just in case."

Nodding, she slid the eggs onto his plate. Adding a large portion of bacon she carried it over. "If you're sure. Hold on, I'll get the toast."

Unable to wait, Stephen picked up a fork and cut into one of the eggs on his plate. He watched the yolk spill over. Shoveling a forkful into his mouth, he closed his eyes. There was just a hint of salt and pepper and the egg melted against his tongue. Setting the fork down, he licked his lips and didn't feel the least bit sheepish when she caught him stealing a taste.

"Perfect," he complimented, reaching for his coffee. "Ah'll have yeh makin' these for me every mornin'."

"Every morning?" She placed a plate of toast between he and Cody. "How long are we going to be together?"

Forever. The rest of our lives. "Ah... Well." He cleared his throat, certain his face was as red as his hair. Glancing up, he saw her warm smile. She stepped away, letting her hand rest briefly on his arm. He began to butter a slice of toast as she promised Cody his eggs would be up soon. Giving the younger man a quick glance, he grunted. "Shut up."

* * *

The stately Georgian house was set back from the road. Black shutters complemented the red brick exterior. The double front doors opened onto a set of wide steps, Doric columns supporting the portico. Begonias were on either side of the steps, their red blooms in full glory. A slate walkway led from the steps to the driveway, which curved around the side of the house and disappeared in the rear. One door of the attached garage was open, letting those who saw it know the owners were meticulous in the cleanliness of their home.

Three pairs of booted feet were silent on the smooth cement. Two stood idly, keeping watch as the third ventured further into the garage to investigate. Within moments he'd found what he sought.

"Under an empty pot," he announced as he climbed the two steps to the door leading inside. "Just like I said it would be." He pressed a button on the wall, eyes glinting as the garage door lowered. "How long do we have?"

"Two hours, tops." The voice that answered was deep, the tone measured.

"Plenty of time," the first man murmured. Sliding the key into the lock on the door he turned it, easing the door open. Once they were inside an immaculate mudroom he closed the door and looked to his associates. "I'll take the upstairs."

The other two nodded, already pulling cameras from the bags they carried.

"The usual?"

He nodded, already entering the kitchen. "If she gets home early we'll go with plan A." Opening the large refrigerator, he glanced at the contents and helped himself to a beer. "If he gets home first, plan B."

Gloved fingers plucked the postcard from the fridge door. He took note of the photo on the front – the Eifel Tower – and turned it over. Sipping the beer, he moved across the kitchen.

"'Mom and Dad,'" he read aloud. "'One day I'll bring the two of you here. Lots of love, Annette.'" He snorted, eyeing the three hearts drawn beneath her name. With a roll of his eyes he pushed the card into his pocket and left the kitchen.

The hardwood floors gleamed in the afternoon light. He was at the end of the central hall. He continued to sip the beer, lip curling as he took in the décor. There was no doubt in his mind that the artwork on the wall would cost him a year's salary. He allowed himself a quick glance into the formal dining room, living room and library as he passed them, then headed up the stairs.

More artwork on the walls. The first door he looked into was a small bathroom. He stepped inside, taking a gulp of beer as he relieved himself. There was no sign of it being used frequently. Feeling charitable he flushed the toilet, leaving the seat up as he continued his search.

The second door led into a bedroom. It took only a few glances in the drawers of the large bureau to realize it was a guest room. Pulling back the white chenille bedspread he saw clean, wrinkle-free sheets were already in place. Were they expecting a visitor? He shoved the bedspread back into place, taking the time to make it as smooth as it had been. The small closet contained several wooden hangers, and a few extra blankets were on the upper shelf. Using his small flashlight he peered in the corners and, finding nothing of interest, left the room.

Another bedroom. He was sure this was hers. Framed photos were on all flat surfaces. Some featured her, but most were of people he didn't recognize. Friends, he assumed, or possibly relatives. Picking up a framed portrait, he looked over the older couple. Her parents. The mother was an older version of Annette, from the full lips to the nicely curving figure. He knew Phil had plans for the mother but if he could get to her first…

The dresser drawers weren't full but contained enough clothes for him to know she expected to come home after her sojourn in France. He pawed through the contents, smirking when he located a few condoms tucked beneath neatly folded panties. Tossing them aside he kept searching. The larger bottom drawer yielded an unlabeled DVD. With a knowing grin he turned to survey the rest of the room. The window seat was lined with stuffed animals, the space beneath open for storage. Doubting anything of interest was hidden among the thick books about art, architecture, and history, he turned his attention to her bed.

He lifted the mattress with one hand, not surprised to find there was nothing tucked beneath it. Letting it fall with a thump he knelt to peer beneath the bed. A pair of fluffy bunny slippers stared back at him and he groaned.

Sitting on the edge of the bed he pulled open the nightstand drawer. A local phonebook, an unopened pack of gum, a box of tissues. He stretched across to reach the other nightstand. Expecting more of the same, he whistled upon finding a small bottle of lubricant. He reached further back, chuckling when his fingers closed around a small cylinder. The fact that it was hiding behind a Bible made him laugh harder.

"Let's see what you watch when you stay with Mommy and Daddy," he said, leaving the vibrator on the nightstand. The desk contained a small TV, DVD player, and satellite receiver. In the top drawer he found the remotes for each and quickly turned them on, making sure to mute the TV. Waiting for the DVD to load, he opened each drawer. Stationary. Stamps. Pens. A nail file. More gum.

"Really? You're watching porn now?"

He looked to the TV and grinned, glancing back at his friend in the doorway. "Does this chick strike you as the type to watch this?"

"Nope, but I'm not surprised."

Unable to resist, he pressed play and tried to picture the straight-laced Annette Jacobs pleasuring herself as she watched the movie. It was a little too vanilla for his tastes, but he could imagine her getting turned on by it. Letting it play, he turned up the volume so the rest of his searching could have a soundtrack.

"Find anything downstairs?"

"These people are totally straight. Porn channels are blocked, their bills are paid, and they're having dinner with Peter and Sarah tomorrow night." The thinner man stretched his arms over his head. "Daddy has a dentist appointment next Friday."

With a roll of his eyes he stepped into the closet. Knowing nothing about fashion he couldn't tell if the clothes hanging inside were high-end designer or not, but he knew they were expensive. He slid each item aside as the room filled with a woman's high-pitched moans. Plucking a fur coat from its hanger he rubbed it against his cheek. Real fur, he thought, tossing it over his shoulder. He leaned up to feel along the upper shelf but found nothing. Not even a cobweb. The floor of the closet was taken up by shoe racks.

"Nice." His friend held up the fur coat.

"Isn't it?" He closed the closet door, eyes moving to the TV.

"I've always wanted to get one of these for my girl."

"I'd let you take that one but I have plans for it." He licked his lips. "Jericho said I could have a little bit of fun."

Dark eyes widened. "What—"

From downstairs came a sharp whistle. Within seconds their associate was entering the room. "We have company."

"Who?" He muted the TV then remained still.

"Neighbor."

They listened, looking to each other when the quick beep of the house's alarm system echoed from downstairs. A door closed, a moment passed. Three short beeps, then heels clicking on the hardwood floors.

"Don't do anything stupid, Ambrose," his friend whispered.

Already at the door, he looked back. Holding a finger to his lips, he left the room and moved quietly downstairs. High heels were clicking on the kitchen floor as he peered out the front window. He saw no sign of anyone waiting and turned to creep down the hall.

The woman was older than Annette, he surmised as he peeked at her. Younger than the woman of the house, though. His gaze roved over her athletic figure. He licked his lips as she bent to pull something from the fridge. One hand sliding into his pocket, he crept up behind her.

She had just placed the pie on the island counter when he clapped a hand over her mouth from behind. She instantly began to fight, a muffled scream causing her lips to vibrate against his palm. When the blade of his knife pressed against her throat she stilled.

"I won't hesitate to use this on you," he warned in a harsh whisper. He pressed the blade closer, yanking her head back. "I'm going to ask you a few questions. Tell me the truth and I won't hurt you. But if you lie, they'll spend weeks cleaning your blood off the walls. Do you understand?"

She gave a shaky nod, flinching when the movement caused the knife to slide along her throat.

"Do they know you're here?" he asked. Sensing another presence he glanced back to see his associates in the doorway. He felt her slow nod and nodded for them to enter.

Roman rounded the counter. When she saw him she screamed again. Dean hissed, digging the dull edge of the blade into her skin.

"Fucking behave," he growled. He wasn't worried about her identifying either of them later on. By the time she spoke to a cop he and his friends would be long gone. Possibly in another country, if Jericho was feeling generous. "Seth?"

Already prepared, Seth moved forward.

"Are you going to scream?" Dean asked, sliding the blade back and forth. The very tip nicked her and she shuddered. Eyes closed, she gave her head the tiniest of shakes. He slowly slid his hand away.

She gasped for air, resisting just enough to make him smirk as he yanked her hands behind her. Seth reached to tie her wrists together. "What do you want?"

"A lot of things," Dean answered honestly. "A decent paycheck. A nice house. Not like this, though. This place is a fucking museum." He dragged the knife lower, watching as it sliced open the front of her shirt. "A good steak dinner waiting for me when I get home." He pushed his lips to her ear. "But right now I want some information."

"Just information?" she whimpered.

"Right now, yes. If there's time, I'll fuck you."

"No—"

"Yes." Reaching around her, he grasped one breast and squeezed. "When are they coming home?"

"Late," she whispered.

"Where are they?"

"In D.C. Bonnie called and told me they're having dinner with a friend."

"Why are you here?"

"She made this pie for me."

"Does anyone know you're here?"

"Only Bonnie."

He looked at the large diamond on her left ring finger. "Your husband?"

"At work. Please, let me go. I have company coming for dinner—"

"When?" he demanded. The blade easily slid through the front of her bra.

"Seven."

Dean looked to Roman. "Four thirty," his friend murmured in answer to the silent question.

"This is your lucky day." He ran his tongue over her neck. "See, I'm already hard." He pushed her tighter against the counter, wedging his crotch against her backside so she could feel for herself. "And it's been a while since I had pussy I didn't have to pay for." Holding out the knife to Seth, he gave Roman a nod and smirked when the small camera was produced. "If you're good, you'll be out of here in time to clean up for your guests."

"No!" she cried when he began unbuttoning her jeans. "Please—"

"Thank you," Dean murmured to Seth when a dishcloth was shoved into her mouth. Her muffled screams were barely audible as he pushed her jeans down. Reaching to unzip his pants, he leered for the camera. "I can't wait to do this your Mommy, Annette."

* * *

The final bullet missed the target. As had all the others, Cody thought with a sigh. Stepping forward, he covered Annette's hand with his and slipped the gun away from her. "Well…"

"I obviously have no talent for this." She shrugged, wiping her palms on her thighs.

"It takes practice." He released the clip, letting it fall to the ground as he pulled back the chamber to make sure all the rounds were spent. Assured that they were, he began unscrewing the silencer.

"If I ever have to use it, I'll have better luck throwing the thing at them." She ducked to retrieve the clip and wiped it dry with her shirt.

"If you have to use it, I'm sure you'll be able to," Cody promised. Gathering the spent shell casings, he dropped them into the bag of gear as Annette pulled her target from the tree.

"At least you can use it again next time." She turned to face him, a smile playing at her lips. "How often do you see a pristine target after thirty-six rounds?"

"Well…" He placed the gun she'd used inside its case. He slipped the silencer into its place, gaze moving to the target she laid on the closed trunk of the car. Except for the torn corners where it had been stapled to the tree, it was indeed pristine. "Some people just aren't cut out for using a gun."

"Do you know, my mother is deathly afraid of guns but can unload a clip in a target leaving only one hole?"

"Do you know my dad can't hit the broad side of a barn from ten paces?" Cody returned, grateful to see her relax as she laughed. "Those are his words. My mom doesn't even know how to turn off the safety of the gun he bought for protection."

"Okay, I feel a little better now."

"Good. Besides, you just need to know which way to point it. There's a pretty good chance that whoever makes you use it will back off when you do."

"I hope it doesn't come to that," she whispered.

"So do I." He handed her the black case. "Ste will tell you to do dry rounds when you can. Don't worry about the silencer if you do that. After lunch we'll clean it. Let's go."

She put her target with the unused ones in the trunk and climbed into the passenger seat. They were on the way when she spoke again. "Have you heard from Stephen since we left?"

"Nah, but I'm not worried. He had that conference call with Del Rio and Stephanie. He's probably still on with them." Cody maneuvered the small car down the lane through the trees. Stephen had told him of the small clearing he could use to give Annette some practice using a gun. Just in case, the Irishman had added.

The winding road he turned onto was deserted and despite not being used to driving on the left side of the road they made it back to the cottage sooner than he'd thought they wood. The heavy clouds above them released a light rain as he stopped.

"What's wrong?" Annette, fingers on the handle, froze when he grabbed her arm.

"The door." Cody muttered a curse under his breath and reached for his phone.

"What about the—" Annette leaned forward in her seat, brow furrowing when she noticed the front door was ajar.

Cody felt the tension in the car increase as he waited for Stephen to answer his cell. When a computerized voice informed him of the number he'd reached he ended the call and tried again. "Fuck," he whispered after the computer answered once more.

Not again, he thought as he grabbed his gun. Annette took his phone, trying Stephen's once again as Cody opened the door. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to stay put but she was already climbing out.

There were large tire tracks in the damp ground. Too large for the car they were using. Cody stepped around them, holding a finger to his lips as he approached the door. Hoping the man had just left his phone somewhere as he fixed tea or used the bathroom, he nudged the door further open with his shoulder.

The living room was empty, the outside chill creeping in already. As he looked for any sign of Stephen, he heard a shrill whistling from the kitchen. He stared at the splintering doorframe for a moment then followed the sound.

"Cody." It was a terse whisper that stopped him. Turning, he saw Annette in the doorway. Blinking, he followed her gaze to the floor and felt his stomach churn.

His eyes moved along the trail of blood, which led to the kitchen. Careful not to step in it he headed in that direction, preparing for the worst but hoping for the best. Just as he crossed the threshold the kettle on the stove began to whistle louder. The small table was turned over, the parts of a broken chair spreading from the stove to the bathroom. He ventured forward and discovered the blood originated in the bathroom. The whistling kettle was like nails down a chalkboard as he stared at the splash of vibrant red on the mirror above the sink.

"Where is he?" Annette asked. Panic was rising in her voice.

"I don't know." Cody slipped by her and moved to the bedrooms. Nothing. Not even a whisper of a disturbance. Pushing into the computer room he saw everything was as it should be. The papers were still spread out on the table as he'd left them. His sweater was still draped over the back of the chair. All the closed-circuit screens still showed their areas. Except for two. A quick calculation had him shaking his head. The feeds for the front door and the long path to the road were dead.

"What's that noise?"

His heart pounding. The kettle still whistling. He could barely hear his own thoughts. But he stilled, eyes roving the cramped room as a vibration sounded. Looking to the desk, he saw Stephen's phone lying next to the keyboard. Snatching it up, he saw there was an unread message and several missed calls. They were from his phone, he realized when he glanced to Annette, who was clutching the phone tightly in her hand. Bringing up the message, he felt his heart drop at the unfamiliar number. A lone word had come through just moments before.

_Gotcha._

**A/N: Oh noes! *evil laugh***

**Thank you to: Dana, Nikki, Jojo, Blackhat, and katiefabe for the reviews. :)**


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